


The Long Walk

by Coimhe_Leigh



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect 2 - Fandom, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alchera, Alpha Group, Alternate Universe, Angst, Biotics, Cerberus - Freeform, Drama, F/M, Family, Gen, Loss of Trust, Loyalty, Mass Effect 2, Mild Language, Paragon Commander Shepard, Secrets, Spacer (Mass Effect), The Illusive Man - Freeform, Trust, War Hero (Mass Effect), black ops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2018-12-26 13:19:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12059796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coimhe_Leigh/pseuds/Coimhe_Leigh
Summary: An Eye for an Eye. Two years of anger, grief, hurt and pain have changed Garrus, and Shepard no longer trusts him. There are challenges they both must face, and somehow they have to find their way back to the people they used to be if they have any hope of surviving the Omega 4 relay.Skews AU within canon ME2. All characters are owned by Bioware/EA





	1. Trust - Tali

_“Shepard, you’re in my sight line!”_

Every inch of him was tense. She could see it from her vantage point, and it was plain in his voice. The thinly veiled anger in his subharmonics blended almost perfectly with his vocals, that alone spoke of his complete and utter focus of emotion, to the exclusion of all else. 

Shepard was right. Two years had not been kind to Garrus. The pain, the anger and grief. He’d held on to it all. Not just Omega, not just Sidonis’s betrayal, the death of his squad. As if that wasn’t enough. He held on to Shepard’s betrayal as well.

Kaidan had said once that Shepard made it easy to believe, if you let yourself, that no matter what the odds, there was always a way to beat them. They had believed, they had all believed. They had armoured themselves against doubt and uncertainty, against death that stared them in the face on every single mission, because Shepard showed them how. Even after Virmire, Shepard’s pure force of will saw them through the other side. There was no pretence, no affectation of leadership. It was just who Shepard was. The complete and utter conviction that together they could move mountains and slay demons. Shepard _was_. Shepard was their touch-stone. Immovable. Absolute. And then…then Shepard betrayed them all. Then she died. 

She died, and none of them could really believe it. Oh, they pretended to. Well, most of them had tried. Wrex wasn’t convinced, and said so. Bluntly. Because that was how Wrex was, and no one really felt like arguing the point with him. 

Liara had broken down. For months, no one could even allude to Shepard around her without danger of reducing her to tears. To any outsider, Liara seemed the most affected by Shepard’s loss. The rumour mills quickly took to that, once a respectable period of time had passed of course. The hero of Elysium, the saviour of the Council and the Citadel. Even gossip mongers knew it was wise to keep their peace until heightened emotions had cooled.

Tali hadn’t heard immediately, one of the drawbacks of the Migrant Fleet. Forever wandering, and remarkably insular. When Captain Anderson had finally been able to get a message to her, she sat in stunned silence for a long time. It was like someone had reached inside her and taken out something vital. Something she didn’t know she needed until it simply wasn’t there anymore. Shepard. Dead. It didn’t seem possible. But almost as soon as she felt her own grief start to trickle through the shades of her denial, a more awful truth hit her. 

Garrus. Garrus would be devastated. She sent him messages, none of which were ever answered; and when the Neema next scheduled a vessel on supply run, she had talked her way onto it, and tried to contact him directly from the supply station. By that time, he had left C-Sec, and no one knew where he had gone. The extraordinary burden of knowing what Garrus and Shepard had been to each other, something that had remained a secret even after she had discovered it, and the pain of realising that in this, in his mourning, Garrus would be completely alone.

There had been many times on her pilgrimage when she had felt acutely isolated, desperately needing the comfort of sentient interaction, even from complete strangers, to keep her from madness. She could only imagine that it must have been so for him. 

She mourned them both. One because life, and the galaxy was lesser without her, the other because he was so very alone.

And so time had passed. The surviving crew of the Normandy was dispersed and reassigned, the Alliance folding in on itself in it’s own particular way. Wrex went home, which came as a bit of a shock, even more so when rumours started to circulate that he was attempting to unite the clans. 

Liara…Liara turned her focus to work. Used what Shepard had taught her to build a wall around herself, leaving only logic and rationality to rule her waking life. It chilled Tali how like Benezia her friend had become when they met on Illium. She hoped the true Liara was still in there, somewhere. 

Tali had still searched for Garrus when she could, but more and more of her time was given to the fleet. She lived always in the shadow of expectation, something she was all too aware of. As the months turn into years, memories moved into the periphery, lost their edge and immediacy. 

Then the screw had turned again and their lives upended themselves once more, pulling them inexorably towards the lodestone that was Shepard. The reunion, the blossoming of surety, the joy, the affirmation of Shepard’s seeming omnipotence, the underlying uncertainty that the cloud of Cerberus brought with it, all balled together in one tight singularity of frantic nostalgia that she wanted nothing more than to drag to her breast and trap there. 

And with that, Tali let it all go. This was Shepard. This was the woman she trusted and believed in. She remembered Kaidans words, and let them envelope and engulf her. For the first time in two years, Tali felt hope. 

But Garrus…Garrus could not. Every betrayal, every wrong, every failure of the last two years hung about his shoulders and bowed him to the ground. There were flashes of the old Garrus, moments where his sham was almost believable, and she supposed that to anyone who did not know him well, nothing would seem amiss. For a while, Tali even believed Shepard was fooled by it. That was before they went looking for Sidonis.

Here they finally were. Garrus staring down the scope of his rifle, trying to get Sidonis in his cross hairs. Shepard deliberately placing herself between him and his target. And Tali, barely concealed in the shadows near his perch, the Carnifex loose in her grasp, safety off and round ready for use if needed. She silently begged him to notice her there, to prove that he was not so absorbed by this lust for revenge that he did not realise his own life hinged on what decision he would make in the next few minutes. 

That was why she was here, because Shepard didn’t trust his obsession, did not trust him not to take the shot _through_ her if he had no other choice. Shepard didn’t trust him, and Tali didn’t either. The fucking tragedy of that was sickening and palpable. 

Garrus’s demands for Shepard to move out of his sights were now heavily laced with frustration and escalating anger, he spat expletives like weapons of their own down the com line at her. Tali’s grip tightened on her pistol. Please let it not come to this. Please.

_“My men...they deserved better!!”_

Garrus readjusted the sight, and a finger gently brushed against the trigger. He stilled and took a breath. He prepared to take the shot. Shepard still stood between him and Sidonis. Tali’s heart was in her mouth, but she raised the Carnifex, lining up with the back of his head. 

_“Look at him, Garrus. There’s nothing left to kill.”_

The seconds slowed, each spanning an unfathomable moment during which any outcome, and all outcomes could exist and also not exist. Two lives teetering in the balance of one decision.

She watched, as if detached from herself, yet still in control of her actions. He exhaled, and her finger tightened gently in response. The moment was now, and she prepared to kill one friend in order to save the other...His head dipped. His finger moved away from the trigger. The moment passed.

She dropped her own weapon, the sweet song of relief surging through her as she watched Garrus take out his frustration on a nearby cargo crate. He wasn’t happy. But he was alive, although he did not yet realise how close that call had been.

By the time Shepard had the transport touch back down on the platform, Garrus had somewhat composed himself. Fury still brimmed dangerously close to the surface, and there was little doubt at whom that anger was directed, but he was actively attempting to control it.

Shepard stepped out of the vehicle, and before getting more than a few steps, Garrus verbally launched into it.

“I know you want to talk about it, but I don’t.” A blatant lie. If he hadn’t wanted to talk about it, he would never have stated so quite as vehemently. He was spoiling for a fight. He may have stood down from shooting Sidonis, but his hostility was still making him irrational and stupid.

Shepard regarded him with a coolness that Tali recognised at once as extremely well controlled anger. They had termed it the "Udina" look. In better times. She dismissed him and instead looked towards Tali's position.

“Tali.” 

Tali stepped out from concealment and walked casually towards the transport, holstering the Carnifex as she came.

“Shepard,” she acknowledged, nodding and stepping into the vehicle.

Garrus’s mandibles flared wide in surprise, and understanding slowly came to him as he watched the Quarian take her seat.

“Shepard…I…what…” Turian facial expressions, by their very nature, were minute and difficult for most species to read. But their subharmonics frequently revealed true emotion, particularly to those familiar with the subtle rills and shifts born of close friendship and intimacy. His voice betrayed a wounded shock. Something had happened that he did not fully grasp…and a bitter taste lingered in his mouth.

“Get in, Garrus. We’ll talk about this later.” Shepard’s voice was soft and cool. It wasn’t an order, but it wasn’t a request. Either way, he took his seat in the vehicle and they cruised back to Zakera Ward in silence.


	2. Atonement - Thane

The transport hub was still swimming with movement and noise when they arrived, in stark contrast to the mood of the return journey. Citizens went about their day, the constant echo of news broadcast interspersed with advertising and docking announcements. 

The careworn customs official was still arguing with a Turian over his “ceremonial blade”. The line behind him had increased, and those waiting were either annoyed or resigned, depending on their position in the queue, and how long they had been standing there. 

The gunnery sergeant attempting to outline Newtonian physics to wet-behind-the-ears recruits continued to bark his pearls of wisdom at them, no doubt assured by years of experience that the louder his instructions were, the quicker they sunk through the bone-headed skulls of his students.

Shepard scanned her credit chit over the attendant VI before exiting the vehicle, shifting her shoulders to re-balance an armour plate skewed by the seat. Tali easily fell into step beside her as they walked towards the docking bay assigned to the Normandy, while Garrus instinctively fell a few paces behind. But the gulf between them was much wider.

Thane met them coming from the opposite direction, nodding almost imperceptibly at Shepard as they drew close. The side of his lip puckered involuntarily, and she peeled off to join him as he walked.

“I’ll see you back at the ship.” She tossed the words over her shoulder to the pair of them, her backward glance only slight.

“All right.” Tali acknowledged and continued on towards the docking bays.

Garrus caught up with her in two quick strides.

“Tali, what…”

“No, Garrus.” She cut him off, and tried not to sound harsh. He was angry, but also hurt and confused. “I’m not having this conversation with you. You need to talk to Shepard.”

He snorted in what could have passed for derision, if she didn’t hear the faint underlying keen of sadness. All it did was add a spark to her own emotions.

She halted suddenly, and he was a step further along before he realised it. Turning back, he found Tali’s arm extended and her fingers jabbing him directly in the chest plate.

“You are a stupid fucking Bosh'tet…and you’re also damn lucky.” Her voice quavered unintentionally, and she cursed in Quarian to cover it. She started walking again, repeating her words to him as she went.

“Talk to Shepard, Garrus.” Later, she could not really explain why she decided to say what she said next. She’d never once ever given a hint to either of them that she knew, and had sworn she never would. But somehow, it just came out. “And if you value anything of what you both once were to each other, you’ll calm the hell down before you do it.”

Garrus stood slack jawed in the walk-way staring after her, speechless for once.

*****

“So what have you got?” Shepard kept a good pace beside him as they passed security, both receiving a small nod from Captain Bailey in the process. 

“A name. Mouse.” When Bailey had dropped that name into their conversation earlier Thane’s stomach had jumped. It could have been a coincidence, but he thought it unlikely. The gods had certain ideas about how the universe worked. Kolyat was part of his quest for atonement, and it seemed the gods wished to remind him that his son was not the only child that he had failed.

“Mouse?”

“If it’s the same Mouse, he’s a former duct-rat, now a petty criminal. Bailey doesn’t think he hired Kolyat, but probably works for whoever did.” His memories of Mouse threatened to rise and cloud the conversation. “He was one of my contacts, when I did wet work here 20 years ago.”

“20 years ago?” The significance took only a second, and Shepard turned a disapproving gaze on him as they turned the corner and began up the stairs. “He was a child?!” He heard the sharp reproach in her voice, much sharper than would have been usual for her. Setting aside thoughts around his son and their current task, Thane turned his observational skills on her instead. 

Something was definitely off. There was a tension that sat closer to the surface than he had seen before. He assessed reasonably early in their acquaintance that the Shepard he had met, and now slightly knew, existed in an almost constant state of wariness, given their current association with Cerberus. She had no hesitation in condemning the actions of the organisation when the topic surfaced, and rarely made command decisions that would be of any long term benefit to them. He did not believe he had ever seen her relaxed or unguarded. 

He did not disagree with her reproach of him. There were reasons why he had made use of Mouse’s ability to gather intelligence, and he could certainly rationalise any of these arguments, but that’s not what he was here for; and no longer what he believed. 

“Atonement is a many sided prism. As clear as that prism seemed when I decided upon this path, there were always facets I would not see until the universe revealed them to me. Mouse is another face of that prism. Another facet of my atonement.” 

Shepard grimaced at his metaphor. Today was not a day she could really appreciate metaphor.

“And when the prism is opaque? How does atonement work then?” She was being unusually flippant with him, but Thane let it pass. He doubted she really expected an answer to her question, but considered one anyway. He pursed his lips slightly, his nictitating membranes sliding swiftly across both eyes. 

“Then atonement is painful, even dangerous, because you can only see one path, one facet. You walk into the unknown without the ability to prepare or make informed decisions. This is not a wise choice, although sometimes it is the only one you may have.” He had selected his words very carefully. There was an undercurrent here, and he did not know it’s source, or where it lead.

“Great.” Shepard muttered under her breath, and then caught herself mid-stride. Thane saw her mentally check herself, and the tension level dropped to what he considered baseline normal for her. “Come on, Thane, let’s go find your son.”

******

Thane took a deep breath as he left the holding cell, Kolyat did not watch him leave. The conversation had been...awkward. There were many things that had remained unsaid. Things that would need to be addressed, but this would take time. Hopefully not more time than he had left.

In the front office, Shepard was leaning against the wall in a carefully composed picture of casual nonchalance. To him, this was an obvious feint. To others, it would not be so. She raised an eyebrow slightly at Captain Bailey, seeming to emphasise whatever point she had just finished making in their conversation. Bailey sighed and acquiesced, nodding at Thane when he caught the other’s eye. 

He paused and waited for Shepard to join him.

“You have spoken to Captain Bailey. ”

Shepard nodded. “I did. We came to an agreement.”

“Hrm.” Thane regarded Bailey with a glance. “He does not look particularly comfortable with the agreement.” 

Shepard was less furtive in her glance, turning to attend Bailey’s demeanour for herself.

“Well, he’ll have to do a little work to make things happen, but he has a Spectre’s authority to fall back on if he needs to justify the actions he’s taking.” She turned back to Thane. “He’s also a father, and from what I gather, has some understanding of your need for atonement.” 

“I am…thank you. You did not need to do that. Kolyat must face the repercussions of his own actions, as must we all.” He frowned, attempting to find the best way to couch his next words. “I know you do not…You take a dim view of manipulating situations for personal gain. I would not like to think that you have made an exception for me, or my son.”

They entered customs and the transport hub, turning left toward the docking bays. Two Hanar stood in, what Shepard assumed was animated conversation, their bioluminescence flickering in waves and ripples. Thane saw much more going on there, but contained his curiosity.

“Thane, the only way Kolyat was going to come near to killing Joram was by bludgeoning him to death with the pistol. The thermal clip was empty. I noticed when I took the damn thing off him.” Thane blinked, surprised that Shepard had observed something he had not. 

They stepped through the airlock door and onto the Normandy proper, halting to be scanned for contamination. He saw her shift her shoulder, he had seen her do that a number of times both before and after away missions.

“I’ve seen the same thing with fresh recruits.” She continued. “They test their weapon out and then forget to replace the clip before starting an exercise. Two or three shots in, they have to eject the clip and rack in a new one.”

The inner airlock opened and they proceeded on.

“He didn’t have another on him when they processed him through C-Sec.” Thane mused.

“Exactly. Your intervention saved his life, Thane. The least I could do was make sure the punishment for his actions took all of this into account.” She stopped close to the central console, where they would part ways. “Someone needed to have at least a passing resemblance of a happy ending today.” 

Thane frowned slightly, but nodded in response to Shepard's words. As he stood waiting for the elevator, he pondered the social dynamic of the current crew, and began to draw some conclusions that he found very intriguing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter will be next week. Have a weekend away, so not much time to write :) Thank you for reading!


	3. Obligation - Shepard

"You have new messages at your private terminal, Commander." Kelly Chambers, ever efficient. Shepard had barely finished her conversation with Thane before Kelly brought this to her attention. "Oh, and you may want to talk to Garrus...he's...um..."

"Yeah, I know. Thanks Kelly." She turned to her private terminal and brought up the message. Let's deal with this first before she had to deal with 6 foot 6 inches of, presumably, extremely cranky Turian.

The first words she saw, _From: Admiral Hackett._ She paused. Hackett had not contacted her before now, although she could assume Anderson had told him she was still alive quite some time ago. She closed the message without reading it. 

Damn it. The last thing she needed was Hackett sending her off on a mission that _"Only you can deal with."_ How many times had they been sidetracked on their mission to get to Saren by Hackett sending her off on side jobs? The Alliance was currently keeping it's distance, which hurt, because Shepard was Alliance to the core. She understood, in their position, she'd be doing the same thing. And Hackett _knew_ her. He _knew_ she wouldn't say no, even if they weren't supposed to be associating with her. There was enough crazy going on at the moment without adding this into the mix.

Shepard tried to convince herself that she could just delete the message and everything would be fine. She knew she was lying to herself. She _would_ open that message, she _would_ read it, and she _would_ agree to whatever Hackett was asking her to do. It was times like these that Shepard deeply wished that she was a little bit more like her father, and willing to tell the brass where to go stick _"sommat 'at stank as bin men"_

Shit.

Ok, first things first. She needed to have a conversation with Tali, but had been holding out until they were back on Illium. That was going to have to be brought forward. whatever it was that Hackett wanted was going to have to be a solo mission. Shepard couldn't involve Cerberus in Alliance business, she wouldn't.

Flicking her com-link on, she pinged Joker.

"Joker, do we have departure clearance yet?" 

"Oh, hey Commander. No, just waiting on it, should be a few more minutes...wait...are you calling me from the Galaxy Map? You couldn't just walk down here?" she ignored him.

"Belay that departure request. I have one more thing to sort out before we go. Can you tell Tali to meet me dockside please."

"Ah...sure thing Commander, I'll just...do that...because it's completely my job." It was hard to miss Joker's sarcasm at the best of times. It fairly dripped down the line on this occasion.

Shepard quickly ducked up to her quarters to grab something before heading back out onto the Citadel.

****

It took them a while to get there, since Flux was no longer in the same place, or even the same ward as it used to be. But eventually they found themselves seated at a small table close to the dance floor, where the music would cover anything they discussed.

"What's going on, Shepard?" Tali asked. She was a bit over the cloak and dagger, but she knew that the number of people Shepard trusted had dwindled, and she was one of the few left.

"I'm sorry, Tali, but I have to ask you to do me another favour." Shepard didn't look comfortable, dance-floors and neon bars had never been her thing. The Commander would much rather a small out of the way bar with good gin and whiskey behind the counter, and a low key, easy atmosphere. But somehow, Tali didn’t think it was the venue that was making her uncomfortable.

Tali thought back to earlier in the day, when Shepard had asked her for the first favour. They'd taken off, leaving Garrus to find his position and set up for the shot. She remembered the look on Shepard's face, the self-loathing at asking one friend to possibly kill another. It had been horrible. For both of them. Shepard had dropped her one bay over, and she had made her way back toward's Garrus's position on her own. Tali honestly hoped that Shepard would never ask her to do anything so horrific ever again, for Shepards sake as much as Tali's.

As the words came out of Shepard's mouth, the dance beat throbbing physically through them both, Tali felt her heart drop. Not again. She didn’t think she could be Shepard’s gun again, not twice in one day. Despite that, she wasn't going to say no. Even if she hated herself for it.

"What is it Shepard. I'll do what I can." Her voice was strained. Shepard noticed, but carried on regardless. Shepard hated that she had to put Tali in an awkward position again. If there was a shit thing to do, she’d always do it herself, rather than ask someone else to. Anything else smacked of avoidance of responsibility. 

"When you get back to Illium, I need to you run a little op for me. And you'll need Dr Chakwas's help..."

"What? What do you mean when _I_ get back to Illium. Where will you be?" Tali was concerned, why would Shepard leave them to go to Illium without her?

"Alliance business, and I don't want to mix it in with Cerberus. Anderson's already told me he can't trust me completely. I don't want to push it further than that." There was a pain in Shepard's expression that she had recently seen in Garrus’s. Tali would say it was ironic, but she was under no illusions that Shepard was unaware of it.

"No, Shepard. Whatever it is they are asking you to do, you can't go solo." damn it, the Commander was already in a crappy position with people she trusted, and people who trusted her. Tali was not going to let her do this.

"I don't have a choice Tali. Cerberus is watching the team. I'm not talking about the crew, I'm talking about you, Garrus, Grunt, the others. I don't want to drag you further in to this, and I can avoid being watched if I want to." She grinned wryly, "It's what I was trained for, after all."

Tali hummed disapprovingly. "Ok, what do you need me to do?"

Shepard explained what she needed, and why Dr. Chakwas had to be involved. Tali nodded as she listened to Shepard, and realised that the questions Shepard needed answered were questions Tali also needed answered. There were too many co-incidences surrounding the mission as a whole, and the players Cerberus had handed to Shepard to recruit. Shepard was also right in that none of them could assume that they weren't being watched, their actions documented. Even if they assumed there were no listening devices aboard the Normandy, EDI was everywhere, and many of her protocols had been locked out by Cerberus. EDI could be running any number of sub-routines that they would never even know about. 

The Illusive Man may have told Shepard that this was her op, but that didn't mean they weren't keeping active tabs on what was going on. She had been there, seen Shepard and Wrex's anger when they had discovered Admiral Kahoku's body. Shepard would never be Cerberus's lackey. This mission against the Collectors was a fight happening on her own terms, using the resources she had at hand. 

"And listen, Karin's canny. You're going to have to be very convincing if you want to get her off the ship. If she won't budge, give her this. She'll know it's important, and that I trust you completely." Shepard slid the small metal lozenge across the table, and Tali quickly palmed it, glancing at it briefly before secreting it away in one of her many pockets. It was a dog tag. For a marine called Jenkins. She wasn't aware of the significance, but she assumed Dr Chakwas would be.

“Ok, Shepard. But just so you know, I’m not happy about this.” Tali used her best admonishing voice. At least it made Shepard smile. She didn’t do that nearly enough any more.

****

Back on the Normandy, Shepard sat at the desk in her quarters steeling herself to open her mail.

There was the message, still innocuously flashing, waiting for her to open it.

She took a deep breath and punched the line with her finger.

_“From: Admiral Hackett_

_Commander Shepard:_

_Our scans in the Amada system have turned up something we thought you should see: the final location of the wreckage of the SSV Normandy._

_We thought this news might be important to you, but we also have an ulterior motive. The Alliance would like to honor the Normandy with a monument, to be built on the site of the ship's final resting place. We'd like to invite you to place the monument and be the first to walk on the site._

_There are still 20 crew members unaccounted for from the attack on the Normandy. If you find any signs of these lost crewmen, we ask that you report to the Alliance so that those heroes' families might find some closure._

_Godspeed to you, Commander.”_

She felt bile rise in her throat.

Fuck.


	4. Expectation - Garrus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter ended up being a bit longer than I intended, but Garrus just had so much to tell me :)
> 
> Thanks for reading.

The Vakarians were an old Turian family. They may not have ever climbed the giddy heights of the Meritocracy, but they were constant, solid and reliable. It could have been a family motto. A Vakarian always knew their purpose and their place. A Vakarian upheld the ideals of the Turian Hierarchy. A Vakarian was a useful servant of the Meritocracy. A Vakarian always followed orders...Garrus had never felt like a proper Vakarian.

He had retreated to the forward battery on arriving back at the Normandy. The absence of eyebrows didn’t prevent anyone he encountered from gathering that he was frowning intensely, and left him well alone. The Thanix was running calibrating algorithms, yet again, at his commands. Garrus needed something to focus on, to drown out...

 _“Are you even listening to me, Garrus?”_ Castis Vakarian, admonishing his 10 year old son. _“Try again”_

He lifted the rifle again. It was too big for him, but that was not an excuse. Some kids his age had already been taught to use fire-arms, in five years they would all ship off to military training, and they were expected to at least know the basics. But his father had been insistent. Garrus had to wait until he was at least 10. And no-one argued with Castis Vakarian in this family.

He remembered that his arms hurt from trying to hold the too heavy rifle steady enough to take an effective shot. He wanted to stop for a while, but that was not going to cut it with his father, not until he hit the targets. Three fragile bottles resting on a rock less than 30 feet away.

 _Now_ he could hit them blindfolded in the dark whilst fending off a pack of ravening varren. But then...then it had been the second hardest thing he had ever tried to do. The first was impressing his father...he’d never managed to do that as far as he could tell.

He lined up the shot, the muscles in his arms trembling slightly, and fired off three rounds. None of them struck home. It wasn’t enough that they had come closer to the bottles than any of his shots so far, his father needed him to hit them. It had been like this for days. Garrus’s initial elation of his father’s homecoming and the prospect of lessons and target practice had waned as he realised it was not something that was going to come to him as easily as electronics. He could pull the rifle apart and put it back together again perfectly, adapt and create modifications to make the rifle better (although his father didn’t allow him to use a modified rifle in practice), he could name every single part of it, where to source replacement parts, and which bits could be surreptitiously damaged to render the weapon useless without the wielder knowing until they tried to pull the trigger.

But learning to shoot the thing, that was hard.

 _“Again.”_ His father’s voice rang in his head as he ejected the thermal clip and racked in a new one.

He was failing. It was the last thing he wanted to do. Vakarians didn’t fail. Vakarians didn’t give up. Vakarians didn’t disappoint their fathers.

 _“Again.”_ The bottles stayed infuriatingly undamaged as Garrus tried to line them up once more. There was a tightly controlled frustration coming through in Castis’s sub-harmonics. Garrus barely heard it, but it was enough to make his heart sink, as he lowered the rifle to eject the clip and rack in another.

He muttered to himself as he did so. He should have stuck to words of self encouragement, or even muttered instructions mirroring his actions. But he didn’t, and Castis heard him.

 _“What did you say, Garrus. Speak up.”_ Garrus shifted uneasily and wouldn’t meet his father’s eyes.

 _“I said this is pointless. I’m not getting any better.”_ He scuffed the ground with one foot, still holding the rifle awkwardly in his too small arms.

 _“You are not getting any better because you need to try harder.”_ Castis upbraided him.

Skills had come easily to Garrus so far in life, something Castis was extremely proud of. His son was able to read and write before any of his peers, and his abilities in tech and electronics were well advanced for his age. He took after his mother, and Castis had wondered if he would ever have the opportunity to truly teach Garrus anything, or whether his son would easily grasp anything he had to pass on, and quickly surpass him. He frequently felt guilty that he hoped this would not be the case, because he wanted his son to have every opportunity and forge a strong and successful path for himself in the Meritocracy, and he wanted to be part of that. The Vakarian’s were an old Turian family, but there were not many of them left. Castis never wanted the load of family expectation to fall as heavily on Garrus as it had on him, but he did not know how to stop it.

_“Son, if you stop, if you give up when something becomes too hard, you will never succeed in life.”_ His voice had softened slightly, but comfort was not something Castis found easy to give, even to his own children.

 _“My arms hurt,”_ Garrus whispered. _“Can we stop for a little while?”_ There was an indistinct keening undertone, and Castis’s mandibles tightened in response.

 _“No.”_ he paused briefly, knowing he had to offer an explanation to his son, where he wouldn’t to a recruit or officer under his command. _“I am not doing this to punish you, Garrus. My job as your father is to teach you to how to be an adult, not to make your life easy.”_

Garrus glanced up at his father. They both shared the same blue gaze.

 _“When things are difficult, that is when you pull yourself together and get it done.”_ Castis then cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the level of intimacy that was in danger of transpiring.

 _“Now.”_ He motioned once more towards the bottles. _“Again.”_

Garrus shot at the bottles until the light was almost gone. _“Again”_ his father always said. But the day ended as every other so far. He could not yet make a hit.

*****

The door to the battery hissed open, and Garrus started from his reverie. Damn. He really wasn’t prepared to talk to Shepard yet. That little trip down memory lane had him a bit on edge. He tried to keep his voice steady, and didn’t turn to face the doorway 

“Can it wait, Shepard? I’m in the middle of some calibrations.” He made his hands look busy, fiercely concentrating on the console. He hadn’t managed to keep the edge out of his sub-vocals, and Shepard knew him well enough to pick up on that.

“Please tell me she’s not the only one who visits you in this grease pit? That’s just fuckin’ sad.” 

Garrus literally jumped as Jack’s voice assaulted him. What the hell? He turned, just to make sure he wasn’t hearing things, pulling the laid back facade over himself as he went.

“Yeah, because you’ve always got the welcome mat out for visitors in your lovely cosy corner of the ship.” he drawled, leaning back casually on the console and folding his arms.

“Well fuck you too.” Jack lightly shot back, carelessly depositing her ass on the crate that did for a bench in Garrus’s “grease pit” as she termed it. “So...where do you sleep? Or do you just lie across the gun batteries and whisper them sweet nothings at night?”

“Cute.” Garrus returned. “Unlike some people, I sleep in the crew quarters. It’s called crew interaction. I’d say you should try it some time, but that’d only encourage you to come back.” 

“Nice, I’ve only been here two seconds and you’re trying to get rid of me” Jack smirked, although it was very close to being a leer.

“What can I say,” Garrus moved slowly away from the console and over to the other side of the room, taking up a leaning position against the wall. “I’m a people person.”

“Ha!!” Jack barked. “That why you were storming through the command deck like someone shoved a rod up your ass?” 

“I think you’ve been misinformed, Jack. Also not sure why you’re still here...or here at all.” If she had known him better than she did, she would have noticed the uncomfortable shift in his mandibles when she mentioned him storming through the command deck. He hadn’t been particularly subtle. He hated people seeing that side of him.

“You kidding me? The word comes down that there’s someone on this boat shitted off more than I am, this I gotta see. Shepard’s golden boy pissy as all hell and the Commander nowhere to be seen. Fuck, even _I_ get curious, Gee.” She kicked back and crossed her heels in front of her, lolling against the wall with her arms crossed.

He winced. Not just at being called Shepard’s golden boy, although that was disheartening enough. Gee had been his mother’s nick-name for him.

“Don’t call me that.” He regretted that the moment it was out of his mouth. Great, give Jack a challenge and watch her take full advantage.

“What? Gee? Why the fuck not? It’s quicker than sayin’ your whole name…”

“...and you’re lazy as fuck, right?” He finished for her.

She grinned wolfishly. “Hell, Gee. It’s like you know me or some fucken shit.” 

Garrus sighed and made his best effort to look bored rather than annoyed. Today was not working out very well for him, and he’d very much like to get back to feeling more in control of the situation than he currently did.

“Ok, so you left your bolt hole to come see me in my grease pit. Have we gawked enough at the Turian yet?” 

“So, what’d you do?” Jack stared brazenly at him, unblinking, daring him.

“What makes you think it was something _I_ did?” He had no intention of answering her question. He much preferred disengaged Jack to curious Jack. The latter was far more intimidating, especially when she made forays into other areas of the ship.

Jack quirked an eyebrow and sat forward slightly. “Ok, so, what did _Shepard_ do?” 

Now that he was prepared for.

“Oh just the usual, surpass insurmountable odds, blow up armies of mechs, storm criminal compounds, confidently right everyone’s wrongs and hog the limelight at the end. Normal day to day, you know how it is.” Garrus inspected his fingernails, the way he had seen humans do when they were pretending to be uninterested in the conversation. He hadn’t quite gathered that it was a bit of an odd thing to do when one was wearing gloves.

Jack pursed her lips as her eyes narrowed.

“You know, I feel like I’m just gunna keep coming back until you tell me.” She knew her presence was irritating the hell out of him, and aside from hating people in general, actively pissing them off was her third favourite pass-time.

Garrus stepped forward with open arms in feigned welcome. “My door’s always open, Jack.”

She scowled smarmily at him and pushed herself to her feet.

“Yeah, whatever. Catch you later Gee.” The door hissed closed after her.

He thought about his mum, how she used to call him Gee. Back when she remembered who he was. 

******

It was the morning after his father had shipped back out to the Citadel. The morning after two weeks of hopeless and useless training with a rifle that left him angry, frustrated and crying himself to sleep every night.  


He came down to breakfast, relieved that today at least, he would not go to bed feeling like a disappointment.

 _“There you are. I thought you were going to sleep all day, Gee.”_ Junea Vakarian had prepared a simple breakfast for herself and her son, and nodded at the empty chair, inviting him to take his seat.

He looked around for his sister.

 _“Where’s Solana?”_ It was unusual for her not to be at the breakfast table with at least half her meal on her face, or the table. Even for an infant, she was a messy eater.

Garrus sat and began to eat while his mother replied

 _“She’s with the neighbours today. You and I have some work to do.”_ It was at that point he noticed the muzzle of the rifle leaning against the side of the table. His face fell, and the mouth-full he was just about to eat slid back onto the plate.

 _“Mum...no.”_ he whispered, afraid of yet another day of failure.

She tilted her head at him. _“Why?”_

 _“Because I’m no good at it. You saw. You heard dad.”_ He stared down at his plate, alone and ashamed.

His mother put down her breakfast, moved over to sit next to him and used one finger to raise his head until he was looking her in the eyes.

_“You, my darling boy, are amazing and wonderful. You and your father are alike in many ways...”_

He made a noise of offended disbelief at that statement, but Junea continued.

 _“You are. The both of you are stubborn, brilliant, and believe you are right, and I love you both very much. What I saw was your father trying to teach you the way his father taught him. So today I will try to teach you the way my father taught me.”_ She let her finger slide from under his chin and bopped him gently on the nose plate.

He blinked at her.

 _“Your father taught you how to shoot a rifle?”_ He was surprised. He had never seen his mother handle a weapon, even though he knew she had served her compulsory time in the Turian military when she was young.

 _“Yes he did.”_ She pushed his breakfast plate at him. _“Eat."_

 _“Were you good?”_ Garrus asked, pushing a spoon-full of food into his mouth. Why was he even asking, his mother was _fantastic_ , so of course she was a good shot.

 _“Oh, I was good, Gee.”_ She had smiled secretly to herself, and it was only years later that he had found out his mother had been the best sniper in her unit, beating the pants off any number of other Turian military snipers...including his father.

****

He blinked back a few tears. That had gone a bit further than he had wanted to. He missed his mother. She was still alive, and on her good days she remembered who her friends and family were. But those days had become rarer as time went on, and he’d not been strong enough to see that happen. He hadn’t been home in a long time.

The door behind him whispered open again. Damn Jack and her threats. She couldn't just let it go.

“Go away!” he threw back at her. Why couldn’t she just find him as belligerently uninteresting as usual and leave him the hell alone?

There was a brief moment of silence.

“Ok.” Shepard said in a low voice, and the door closed again as she moved out of it’s proximity.

Garrus turned just in time to see the back of her head in the gap of the closing door.

“Damn it!!” He ground his teeth and softly keened.

Today just kept getting worse.


	5. Observation - EDI

_Unilateral systems cognition scans complete._

_Normandy operations at 98.9657% of optimal capacity. Irregularity scrubbing of remaining 1.0343% initiated._

_Systems review, firewall check underway._

_Crew contingent allocated and accounted for. Crew present on all decks within acceptable spatial parameters._

_Engineering and battery draw down is consistent and within specified limits. Life support functioning at 100.03% of recognised effectiveness._

_Error in scrubbing. Reinitiate with amended protocol. Unintentional data loop detected. Scanning for points on Y axis and B axis variables. Loop returning at 0.98765134. Re-initiating loop and amending return variables._

_*****_

“Mr Moreau.” EDI had not spoken for at least half an hour. Joker had been in heaven.

“Yes EDI.” His best _oh-god-what-now_ voice had no effect on EDI, but it made him feel better anyway.

“Are you playing a joke on me?” EDI was not sure if it was funny, therefore was not able to extrapolate if it was meant to be a joke. It did not seem to fulfil any of the parameters of what would ordinarily define a joke, however, this was an area in which she did not have adequate data available to properly assess the possibility.

“Ah...not right this second, why?” Or any second, really. Joker had no clear notion that EDI would understand a joke if it bit her on the…wait, did AI’s even have asses?  

“System protocols are telling me that the Normandy’s airlock is open, when quite clearly, the airlock indicators are showing that it is closed.”

“Sounds like a system glitch, just scrub the data.” Wow, really? I mean, sure, she called him on not being finicky enough with maintenance reports, but this was ridiculous.

“I am doing so. However, the Normandy does not have this kind of system glitch. It is unusual.”

“EDI, every computer system has glitches. We probably picked up some kind of bug the last time we docked with Omega.”

“You clear lack of concern is disconcerting, Mr Moreau. Shouldn’t you be concerned with any unusual activity in the Normandy’s systems.” Joker snorted in response before continuing.

“EDI, the ship is fine. The only thing unusual about the Normandy’s systems is _you_ , and trust me, I am _always_ concerned about you.” He punched up navigation data and started racking up co-ordinates for their trip out.

“Thank you Mr. Moreau. I believe that the appropriate response to that would be for me to say _how sweet._ ”

“Wait...what?” He paused mid key swipe wipe, blinking in confusion.

“When you said you were always concerned about me. I would say _how sweet_.”

“Ah, no, EDI, that’s _not_ what I meant.” Really, really not what he meant. Bad enough that Cerberus shoe-horned an AI into the ship in the first place, but now it thought he was hitting on it? Was there even a fetish for that kind of thing? What was he even saying. If someone could think of it, someone else would have a fetish for it, and there would be porn…although he wasn’t really sure what that would involve…and _OH GOD WHY HAS MY MIND GONE HERE!_ rolled through his head.

“I know, Mr Moreau. It was a joke.”

Joker’s sardonically biting response was cut off by a comm-link from the Commander.

“ _Joker. Everything fine to go_?” She sounded a little scratchy, but then today had, by all rumoured accounts, been one of _those_ days.

“Ah, yes, Commander. Everything’s fine here…”

“I believe Mr Moreau would like to mention a small systems error…” EDI attempted to interrupt.

“Normal, everything’s normal and fine, Commander. We’re good to go. I’ll lay in course for Illium.” Joker threw a dirty look at EDI’s holographic interface, even though that would not send the same message as if he had been looking at a sentient being.

“ _Ok._ ” Shepard’s comm-link ended.

“Well ok to you too, Commander.” Joker shook his head and muttered to himself. But not too loudly. He didn’t really mean it. Frankly, he’d rather deal with EDI any day of the week than with half the shit that was on Shepard’s plate.

“Mr Moreau, why did you cut me off before I could tell the Commander about the error?”

“Shepard doesn’t _need_ to know every single thing that goes wrong with the ship, EDI. I’ll just do a maintenance pass on it while we’re en route. You’re taking this way too seriously if you want to bore the Commander with techno-babble.” Besides which, he was pretty sure Shepard would just drag her ass down here to look over his shoulder if she thought there was a real problem, and he already had one back-seat driver to contend with.

“I do not believe the Commander would be bored with what you call techno-babble, Mr Moreau. She is highly intelligent and extremely capable.”

“Yeah, but Shepard doesn't fly the ship. I do. So let’s just let her do all the fighty-fighty, and me do all the flighty-flighty, ok?”

“A very droll play with words there, Mr Mor....” Joker jabbed at a button in the interface.

“I swear, I’m going to break my thumb on this mute button sooner or later.” He knew EDI could turn it back on at any time, but he had been working on making a point on this one.

 

******

  _Maintenance scan initiated.  Background protocols set to update every .034 seconds._

_Crew compliment present and accounted for on all decks within acceptable spatial parameters._

_Begin update rotation._

_Officer Regina Allmond – CIC station f5_

_Sydney Ashton – CIC station h9_

_Evan Blackler – Crew Quarters_

_Aliah Breeze – Crew Quarters_

_Harley Buck – CIC station k2_

_Meiron Carter – CIC station g4_

_Dr Karin Chakwas - Medical bay_

_Yeoman Kelly Chambers - CIC station a2_

_Officer Lesley Cooper – Shuttle Maintenance Bay_

_Engineer Gabrielle Daniels - Engineering Station 2_

_Engineer Kenneth Donnelly - Engineering Maintenance Station_

_Danielle Dwyer – Crew Quarters_

_Alfred Dwyer – Mens Rest Room_

_Kasumi Goto – Observation Deck_

_Urdnot Grunt – Mess Hall_

_Mess Seargent Rupert Gardner - Mess Hall_

_Officer Basil Holyday – Cargo Bay requisitions_

_Jack – Sub-Engineering level_

_Thane Krios – Life Support_

_Iaan Knight – Deck 2 Laboratory_

_Miranda Lawson – Private Quarters_

_Zaeed Massani - Armory_

_Helmsman Jeff Moreau - Navigation Control_

_Dani MacLeland – CIC station h0_

_Samara – Observation Deck_

_Commander Shepard - Captains quarte...Captain’s quarte...Captain’s quarte...Captain’s quarte...Captain’s quarte...Captain’s quarte...Captain’s quarte...Captain’s quarte...Captain’s quarte...infinite loop detected, returning at .021 of value. Initiate data review…error amended, returning at base value._ _Commander Shepard - Captain’s quarters_

_Dr Mordin Solus – Deck 2 Laboratory_

_Sam Stovell – Crew Deck Women’s Shower…….._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one for today. There's another couple of chapters coming this week :)


	6. Self Examination - Garrus

* * *

_“Ok, folks, docking procedure with Illium complete. Have fun, buy things, don’t sign yourself into indentured servitude, you know, the usual.”_ Joker’s docking pep talk to the crew came over the comm-link, and Garrus paused in his calibrations.

They were already at Illium? How long had it been since he’d slept? Or eaten? His stomach, finally having gained some attention, rumbled and groaned in protest. Oh…that long. He sighed and flexed his neck muscles. Ok. Food first, then…he needed to talk to Shepard.

“EDI, is Commander Shepard still on the ship?” He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d already disembarked.

“Commander Shepard is in her quarters, Garrus.” He sighed. He wasn’t sure he wanted to have this conversation at all.

Shepard hadn’t returned to the main battery after he inadvertently told her to go away. Jack had been back a few times, but she seemed to have finally become bored with the game, since he wasn’t giving her anything. The last time, he’d simply stood there laconically and stared at her until she left. That took a while. There was nothing Jack liked more than a challenge. And when she did leave, she did it with her usual “ _Like I give a shit_ ” bravado.

He wasn’t sure what to make of Jack. The part of his brain that didn’t like complication wanted to see her as unstable, psychotic and tear-away, with no regard for the rules, and her own twisted moral code.  But Shepard saw something more, she had to. Shepard had never been one to accept whatever assets were available regardless of consequences or risks. If she was willing to have Jack on the crew, it meant that there was something beyond the anger and belligerence that the rest of them saw.

Garrus knew he had spent much of the last two years in this “uncomplicated” mindset. It was easier. If everything was black and white, logically it was easy to spot injustice. Injustice was something he felt like he could do something about. Omega was some _where_ he felt like he could do something about. He was capable and well trained. His time with Shepard on the original Normandy had taught him more, some of which was more complicated than he liked, but it was easy to shove that away into a corner and focus on the identifiable threats. He thought what he was doing was the right thing, and others had agreed with him, others came to him and wanted to help. It was their choice…

*****

He had been reluctant to accept the role of leader. Of the many things he had been in his life, a leader was not one of them. For all that he had wanted to go his own way, he had begrudgingly acquiesced to the strictures placed on him by the Hierarchy, by his father, by C-SEC. He saw it as trying to be a good Turian. Do what you are told, don’t question orders, follow the regulations, be what I expect you to be…except he didn’t, and he wasn’t, and it still made him feel like a disappointment. When his team on Omega slowly began to form, they looked to him for leadership, and he was uncomfortable with that. He took care of himself, and anyone who got in his way. The idea of being responsible for the lives of others scared the hell out of him.

Eventually he worked out a deal with them, they were a team; and as a team, they would make group decisions. It seemed to suit everyone fine. But as time went on, regardless of the egalitarian nature of their group, they still looked to him to make the final call. The process had been so subtle that he hadn’t even been aware it was happening. Had they deliberately managed him into the position of leadership without him being any the wiser? Probably not, although the Salarian demolitions expert may have steered things that way.

Then everything had gone horribly wrong. He finally began to grasp leadership when it was too late, and he didn’t like it. The parallels he could draw between how Shepard led her team, and how he had ended up in a position of leadership were hastily packed away in the “Too Complicated” box, and he went back to looking out for himself. But now there were ten comrades, ten friends, who’s deaths weighed on him, and for which someone had to pay. Sidonis. In an uncomplicated world, Sidonis was responsible. He had set up the ambush, and given away the group’s location. Every single time he recited the names of his dead team to himself, he imagined putting a bullet in Sidonis’s skull. He let the anger and need for vengeance drive him, fuelling his will to stay alive. If he didn’t get out of Omega, who was going to take down Sidonis. _Sidonis must pay_ became a mantra to him as he lined up shot after shot from his nest, taking down the canon fodder thrown at him.

He was almost out of stims and heat clips by the time he had made that call to his father. There was only so much time left, and he hadn’t slept in a week. He was going to die here, no one would avenge his fallen friends. More anger to feed into himself, this time to assuage the burgeoning wave of failure. He fired as he spoke to Castis, but he was getting sloppy. He missed the incoming Salarian by a scale’s breadth, trying desperately to keep as much emotion out of his sub-harmonics as possible. But his father heard it.

 _“No matter how bad things are falling apart around you, as long as you have at least one bullet left, you can still get the job done, understand?”_ Castis's calm voice came down the comm-link to him.

For so long, he had blamed his father for so much. Now, sitting here, staring death down the barrel of a rifle, for the first time it occurred to him that perhaps what his father had been trying to tell him with his hard assurances that Garrus could succeed if he tried hard enough and his chastisement of choices that led to shortcuts, was that he had absolute faith that his son would get there in the end.

_“You finish up what you have to do there, and then you come on home to Palaven. We have a lot to sort out.”_

Garrus buried his emotion. He was going to disappoint his father again. And this time, he couldn’t resent him for it. This time, it was Garrus’s fault.

He took a breath and lined up the next shot, probably one of his last. The scope wavered a bit, weariness and guilt weighing on him, and the head shot he had been readying slipped away from his target, and on to one further back. An armoured arm, hand wrapped around the ubiquitous Carnifex that all merc’s seemed to have obtained. His mandibles twitched slightly as his scope lingered on an N7 designation embedded in the armour. It brought up memories he’d rather not be having at that juncture. Damn mercs, they’d pilfer anything.

He almost pulled the trigger out of habit when his head shot was in line, but shock stayed his hand. The face was scarred, and the hair was shorter, but unless he had started hallucinating from stim withdrawal, that…that was Shepard. He dared, honestly dared to hope.

Two seconds later, she shot an incoming merc in the back of the head, and nodded confirmation to the Salarian Garrus had barely missed hitting a few minutes earlier, who unleashed fast and surprisingly accurate pistol head shots on two others. A young freelancer he had not yet even clocked took out three more with a fairly nasty biotic and pistol shot combo. They then converged in an all too familiar pattern on Shepard, to flank and behind.

Spirits, but he had almost barked a laugh of pure joy, and his heart surged in his chest in a way it had not done for two years. The influx of adrenalin cleared his mind, and he swung his shot around to take out another hapless merc wannabe who was stumbling over the barricade.

“I have to go now, dad. Don’t worry about me, I’ll make it home when I can. The odds just got a lot better.”

*****

The spark had been in her eyes, the moment she realised it was him. Shepard had stepped forward, her arm’s wide, that endearingly lopsided smile teasing the edge of her lips.

All he could think was _“be cool, be cool, be cool!”_ as he rested lazily back against a crate, dropping the rifle butt to the floor and casually leaning the muzzle against his leg.

Shepard checked herself, and fell back into friendly professional.

 _Oh shit! No! Way too cool!_ He could see she’d wanted to embrace him, and damn it if he didn’t want to do the same. He had chuckled, and quickly covered that with some off the cuff remark that he didn’t even remember any more.

*****

At the end, lying on the floor of his outpost, blood pouring from him, clogging his eyes, mouth and nose, all he could hear was her voice saying his name. In his delirium of blood loss, Garrus was strangely contented with that. He was going to die, his promise to his father broken, and his vengeance on Sidonis incomplete. But he was holding her hand, and she was saying his name.

*****

“No one will give me a mirror. How bad is it?” His first post-surgery words, and he’d been trying to balance the level of humour with his own concern of how Shepard would react to his ruined visage.

“Hell, Garrus, you were always ugly. Slap some face-paint on there, and no one will even notice.” The spark was still there, it was definitely there. And the easy sass. Damn he had missed that, missed her. He laughed, and spirits but didn’t that send his pain receptors into a frenzy.

“Ah, don’t make me laugh, damn it.” He’d made a comment about some women finding scars attractive, and noticed the gentle twitch of one eyebrow when he said it. Following it up with a comment about how most of these women were Krogan may have been pushing it a bit, but that lopsided grin just blossomed on her face and his heart sang.

*****

That was then. Things had changed. He tried to think of when they had changed, and came up with nothing. Admittedly, he hadn’t been off ship a lot, the last group mission he’d been on was to get Jack from Purgatory, and that had been a while ago…strange, he hadn’t noticed how long it had been. He had been so involved in tracking down Sidon…a realisation hit him.

Jack had been right, Shepard _was_ the only one that came down here to see him, and he had taken it for granted that every time the door had opened, it would be her. After the initial few conversations, every time she had come down to see him, he was either busy with calibrations, or used that as an excuse because he was pursuing leads on Sidonis and didn’t want to miss something by stepping away.

Slowly the box of “Too Complicated” thoughts in his mind began to open. He forced himself to consider some of them, and he did not like what they contained.

“Shit.” He muttered to himself. Screw food, it could wait. He really needed to talk to Shepard, and his stomach settled into a grumpy throbbing at being, once again, ignored.

*****

Garrus caught the elevator just as Tali and Dr Chakwas were closing the door. He greeted them both, and they nodded in return, if somewhat tightly. Reaching the command deck, Tali stepped out and Dr Chakwas waited for Garrus to do the same. Instead he moved aside a little to let her pass.

“Not heading off ship, Garrus?” She queried, knowing full well that the only deck above this one was Shepard’s.

“Ah…no…” He couldn’t even manage a smart response.

Dr Chakwas’s eyebrows lifted a little. Damn human eyebrows and their mobility! He had learned the basics of reading human expressions, but it was still an odd experience for him.

Tali tilted her head a little, and seemed about to say something. She thought better of it, and the door closed, leaving Garrus alone as it rose again.

Standing outside Shepard’s door, which he had pinged twice, so many thoughts about how this conversation could go ranged through his mind. He discarded most of them, reaching for words that skirted around awkwardness. He then discarded these too, because he knew they were just an attempt to avoid the issues. Damn it, “uncomplicated” was so much easier.

He pinged the door again and waited. The minutes passed and eventually he opened a comm-link via his omnitool.

“Ah, Shepard. You said we should talk. You want to open the door or have a conversation through it?” There was no response. Was she ignoring him? No. Shepard was a soldier, a leader, a damn good one; she didn’t ignore her crew.

“EDI, is there something wrong with Shepard’s link?” He started running a diagnostic on his own link, just to be sure it wasn’t the other way around.

“No, Garrus. Shepard’s comm-links all appear to be in working order.” EDI replied after a few seconds.

“And she’s in her quarters?”

“Yes. The Commander has been in her quarters since we left the Citadel.” He blinked. That didn’t sound like Shepard at all. She was always in one active area of the ship or another. Dr Chakwas was constantly reminding her of the benefits of rest and down time.

“What, she hasn’t left at all?”

“No, Garrus, Commander Shepard has remained in her quarters.”

“EDI, on average, how much time does Shepard usually spend in her quarters?”

“On average, 4.23 hours out of every earth standard 24 hour cycle.”

“And she’s been in her quarters since we left the Citadel?”

“Yes.”

That was a lot longer than 4.23 hours. He considered his options. If Shepard had locked herself away in her quarters, there had to be a very good reason for it. Was she ill? Surely Dr Chakwas would have mentioned it in the elevator. His detective instincts were sparking off all over the place, and he attempted to weigh his gut feeling that something was seriously off here against whatever insanely important thing would have Shepard holed up and isolated from the rest of the crew.

Gut instinct won out, and he over-rode the lock control, which put up a small protest, but eventually retracted and the door slid open.

Stepping inside, he was initially bemused by the fish tank. It seemed remarkably excessive, especially since it didn’t have any fish in it. Not really something he would have considered an integral part of a fighting vessel. But he had long since stopped questioning the idiosyncrasies of non-essential Cerberus vessel design (and if he had to hear one more time about Joker and his leather seat, he might take drastic action).

Shepard was sitting on the side of the bed, staring at the wall. He halted uncertainly, mandibles fluttering in embarrassment. His gut had been wrong. She was here, and she looked perfectly fine.

“Hey, Shepard. So, funny thing about that door lock…” She hadn’t moved. She hadn’t responded to his entrance at all. “Shepard?” Nothing. She just sat there. He noticed that she was wearing Alliance casual working blues…where had she found them? Her usual on-ship attire were some non-descript black fatigues they’d picked up on Omega, and an old N7 shirt Anderson had sent to her in his own small act of defiance to the Alliance line. The closet of Cerberus uniforms, and that horrific pre-fab jumpsuit had been reduced to omnigel quite some time ago. It’s one of the many reasons he was certain she had no loyalty to Cerberus, she couldn’t bring herself to wear their emblem, even as she could make use of their resources to a common end.

Garrus ran a scan of the room, looking for anything unusual (because Shepard sitting mutely staring into space was not unusual enough). Nothing registered as out of place, although he did notice the window positioned above the bed appeared to have been sand blasted opaque somehow, and that was noted in the ship’s log as an item for repair. An item that Shepard had tagged as completed when it obviously wasn’t.

There was also a program running from her desk console. He would have missed it, but for a gently blinking light slightly hidden, perhaps intentionally, by a whisky glass and half a data pad. He was curious, and lifted the console screen. What greeted him was a mess of fast rolling code, none of which he could follow. This was data stream on a much higher and more complex level than he had ever seen before, and he’d seen some pretty impressive coding work-arounds in his time with C-SEC.

He looked again at Shepard and a suspicion began to grow. He’d heard rumours of someone trying to market a Shepard VI. None of the major tech companies wanted to touch that idea. Too much of a political hot potato back at the time, and the level of consumer interest wouldn’t have supported the development costs once that blew over. Walking over and placing a hand on Shepard’s shoulder, his suspicions were quickly confirmed when it passed right through her.

What Garrus was looking at here was obviously far too advanced to be a cheaply marketed illegal VI, the resemblance to her was excellent, and data readouts on his visor and omnitool told him that this was Shepard, but not enough effort had been put into it to create a full simulacrum.

He wanted to blame Cerberus, and that thought did crop up first. But it didn’t seem in keeping with their own self-imposed perfectionism. If they were responsible, it would have been a fully functioning and workable VI. This was a stop-gap. A damn impressive stop-gap; however, not one that could stand up to close physical scrutiny. The VI had been designed to fool tech, to fool scans…to fool EDI.

He left without interrupting the data feed. Whatever the hell Shepard was doing, she didn’t want Cerberus to know about it, and he wasn’t about to drop her in it. She didn’t trust him, he got that, and somehow he had to figure out how to fix that. But he knew who she did trust. He didn’t know _how_ he was going to get Tali to tell him what was going on, but he was going to give it one hell of a try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few chapters are going to come in quick succession this week due to having some time off :) Thanks for reading.


	7. Confidentiality - Dr Chakwas

Karin yawned widely and loudly, not bothering to cover her mouth, or really care what it looked like. She’d been staring at data and med diagnostics for a solid three hours. She knew that it wasn’t really productive to do that, hell, she’d written a damn book on neurology and effective learning.

The publishers had decided to change the title to “ _Hacking Your Happy Chemicals – Learning how to Learn!_ ”, which made her throw up a little in her mouth every time she thought about it. Really, she did not see what was at all wrong with the original title. Yes, it was longer, but it was a far more accurate descriptor of the content. She’d paid good credits to have her own single copy produced with the original title, and “ _Neuroscience and Effective Learning – a system of efficacious practice for optimal regulation of serotonin, dopamine, oxytocin and endorphinates in enhancing constructive memory petternation and learning applications._ ” had sat on a shelf in her med bay where ever she had been stationed.

And then the Normandy went down, taking her library, the Serrice Ice Brandy…and Shepard with it.

She’d been as guilty as everyone else in expecting Shepard to survive even nuclear winter, should it descend upon them. As Dr Chakwas, she knew that logically, that was not possible. But as Karin, she had seen Shepard walk through fire, and it was hard not to succumb to a little hero worship. Not that Shepard would have a bar of that. She hated the adulation, it made her uncomfortable and “ _ interferes with me being able to do my bloody job _ ” she had grumbled more than once. Her personal thoughts aside, Karin had always treated Shepard as any other patient…well, any other patient who routinely completed missions despite broken ribs, lacerations, burns, sprains, strains, tears, bullet wounds, embedded shrapnel, head trauma; hell, once even whiplash. Shepard was not just her patient, Shepard was her friend.

When Cerberus had made the initial approach, Karin had told them to go to hell, in no uncertain terms. She had even used a number of expletives she’d only ever heard from Shepard. The Commander had her mother’s looks and accent, but her father was the one who taught her how to swear properly. 

Karin smiled when she remembered Vian enthusiastically embracing his daughter with tears in his eyes after she had made Spectre, his accent thick with emotion. “You bloody beauty, you got me scrikin’ girl!” He’d then held her at arms length. “Lookit you, proper wool an’ all.”

She’d smacked him on the arm in mock annoyance at that. “None o’ that, Da.”

He’d grinned and pulled her close again before standing back, giving her a nod, and adjusting his dress blues.

“Right, well, that Saren gadgie's gannin' proper radgie, like. So yon get out there and do that bloody yampy bell-end a messin’.”

She stood to attention and saluted him smartly, although technically she now outranked him. “Yessir!” And then they had both laughed. That had been a good day.

 

The next time Cerberus had contacted Karin had been months later, and she had intended to delete the message without opening it. Call it fate, call it an involuntary muscle twitch in her finger, when the message opened, the first thing she saw was an embedded vid of Shepard unconscious on a bed in a clean room. It caught her right in the chest, a horrible painful wrench of memory and emotion. Suddenly her lungs forgot how to work and she had to sit down, physically clutching the console, unable to tear her eyes away from the image, which became untenable and blurry as water slid from her eyes.

Her logical brain fought it. A sick joke. Altered imagery. Computer generated. Facial surgery and alternations. How fucking dare they! Archive file!  Image induced hypnosis! THAT IS NOT SHEPARD!

She was finally able to look away from it and shut her messenger off. She needed a drink, a bloody large one, and a safe place to hide from the shock. On her way out of the lab, she’d given a two word instruction to the closest research assistant “cancel everything” and left with no further comment.

Karin Chakwas applied for, and was granted an extended leave of absence for personal reasons five days later. She had never returned to that lab.

*****

She now battled the desire to return to her work and instead forced herself to stand, stretch out her strained muscles, have a glass of water and rest her eyes. Her brain needed downtime to start sorting through everything she had forced into it over the last few hours. And she would need some sleep.

As much as she chastised other members of the crew about not getting enough sleep, she wasn’t exactly a model example of that herself. The excuses she gave herself varied from  _ “I need to get this one last thing done _ ” to  _ “I need to understand what Cerberus did to her” _ , and there were a range of others that fell in between. The last three hours had utilised the latter of her excuses…if she was honest, nearly every minute she wasn’t working on something mission related, she was utilising this excuse in her work. Because when it came down to it, Collectors or no Collectors, Cerberus  _ were _ the bad guys. And she didn’t care about Miranda’s assurances that Shepard had been put back together exactly the way she was, Karin needed to know for herself, and needed to understand what they had done. Not because she didn’t trust Shepard, but because if things went sideways, medically she was never entrusting Shepard’s medical care to Cerberus. To ensure that meant analysing, deconstructing and understanding exactly what they had done to bring her back.

These thoughts drove her, that and ensuring Joker to his meds. Honestly, that boy. She shook her head.

It had barely been five minutes, and she considered returning to her work. There was a particularly fascinating subset of neural data that she had been wrangling with, and that had so far stumped her.

To her reluctant relief, she was saved from herself by Tali, who chose this moment to stroll into medbay looking for a shopping companion.

“Oh really, Tali. Why on earth would you want me to go shopping with you?” Her clipped sterling tones were laced with amusement. The idea of a Quarian and a human trailing around Illium peering into shop windows and making foolish impulse purchases was simply too ridiculous for words.

“Dr Chakwas! Why would I  _ not _ want you to go shopping with me? I’m sure it would be a…wonderful experience for both of us.” Tali was an extraordinary young woman, but she couldn’t lie worth a damn, at least not when she didn’t really believe a word she was saying.

Karin laughed, a long loud belly laugh, and gave Tali a look that said  _ “Oh you sweet summer child.” _

Tali threw her hands in the air and conceded defeat on this conversation.

“Ok fine. Shepard said it might be a good idea for me to get you off the ship for a while. I believe her exact words were  _ Tali, get Chakwas off the damn ship for a good two hours before she starts literally merging with the med bay. _ ”

“Ha!” Karin barked back. “Yes, that does sound like Shepard. What exactly is she planning to do while I’m away?”

Tali paused, and may have narrowed her eyes, it was hard to tell through the visor.

“You have a very suspicious mind, Dr Chakwas.”

“No, Tali, I just know Shepard.” Karin grinned, leaned back against one of the consoles with her arms crossed.

Tali twitched slightly and sighed. Shepard was right, Karin was hardly to be fooled. Time for the backup plan. She reached into one of the many concealed pockets about her person and removed the metal dog tag, handing it to Dr Chakwas without a word. Karin stared at it, before carefully closing her fingers around it with a great deal of care and clearing her throat.

“Fine, fine.” She took a second to sound convincing. “Ok, Tali, you win. Whisk me away to a couple of hours of R&R. I’m sure I can fix up whatever mess Shepard gets herself into when I get back.” There was a slightly forced smile followed by a nod, as they both left the med-bay.

******

Running into Garrus in the elevator had not been part of the plan, and Karin could sense the tension between him and Tali. Whatever that was, they should sort it out. Last thing this mission needed was unresolved tensions. It was hard enough working with a Cerberus crew. She knew Tali didn’t like it, and Jack had made her position on the matter pretty clear.

Karin pondered. How ironic that a Cerberus funded mission ended up being down to a team of human  _ and  _ non-humans to complete. Most of them weren’t here for Cerberus. They were here because of Shepard. Even members of the human crew had started considering themselves Shepard’s crew. That was the effect she had. She treated everyone as a member of the team, and sooner or later, everyone began to believe they were part of that team. It wasn’t like the original Normandy. Shepard wasn’t as open and easy, Karin didn’t need to be a doctor to see the differences in her behaviour. She was more reserved and guarded.

Tali stepped out of the elevator, and Karin waited for Garrus to follow. He didn’t. Instead shuffling slightly to the side to let her out. She glanced at Tali who quickly looked away. She sighed inwardly, and hoped sincerely that neither of them were dragging Shepard into whatever it was that stood between them. The ship only had one more deck higher than this one, and that was the captain’s quarters.

She fell in step beside Tali as they walked down the command deck towards the airlock.

“Should I even ask about that?” Karin queried.

“Probably not.” Came the reply.

“All right, I’ll leave that alone then. Although I hope whatever it is can be sorted out sooner rather than later.” Karin tried to make her tone as obvious as possible without being rude. Perhaps she had been to British about it, too subtle. Tali barely reacted, as if the problem did not have anything to do with her.

“So...” Karin started as they stepped out of the airlock, and were greeted by an Asari concierge who proceeded to give her a run-down on Ilium, areas and services available and tips on how to navigate purchasing goods and reading contracts. The Asari didn’t acknowledge Tali’s existence at all, and that annoyed Karin greatly. Tali seemed unconcerned. How many times must this kind of thing happened for it to seem normalised behaviour to her. Karin was angry on her behalf, and once the Asari had finished her “helpful” advice, the Dr. made a point of turning to Tali and asking her where she would like to go first, since this shopping expedition had been her idea. Tali’s momentary discombobulation was worth it to see the concierge go a slightly darker shade of blue in embarrassment.

“That wasn’t really necessary, Dr.” Tali chided her as they wandered off.

“Maybe not, but she got up my nose.” Karin smiled mirthlessly.

Tali wasn’t clear on the meaning of that particular human saying. As with most human sayings, it didn’t make a great deal of sense. How precisely the Asari was supposed to have fit up the Dr’s nose was quite beyond her.

“Ah…if you say so. But just so you know, I could have taken her any time on my own.” They approached the first outlet where an odious sounding Volus was attempting to short pre-fabs to the shock of the Asari shop-keeper.

“Of that, Tali, I have absolutely no doubt. You  _ do _ have a shotgun after all.” The Dr. feigned interest in merchandise, while Tali chuckled and unconsciously patted the weapon on her hip.  


	8. Memory - Shepard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being twice as long as I expected it to be, and I did consider cutting it into two parts. But this was the story Shepard wanted to tell me about Alchera, and I decided it needed to be in one continuous piece.
> 
> There is a couple of pieces of music that go with Shepard's arrival on Alchera in this chapter. If you want to listen either or both of them while you are reading, please feel free, although you may be finished reading before the music is done :)
> 
> https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B1jWv-IpbOTFTWhZem1JMTNGeFk
> 
> https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B1jWv-IpbOTFSzZPLXFzMTdBbUE
> 
> Content warning: be aware that there are some very emotional moments for Shepard in this chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

Shepard had watched the Normandy depart from a flight lounge two floors up from their hangar bay. Buying the illegal Shepard VI had been a whim at the time, but it had provided her a base to work code off, and clearly that had fooled the scanning systems. Honestly, it had been so long since she had done a hack, code and piggy-back this complicated, and she wasn’t convinced until the Normandy was well out of the Widow Nebula that it had actually worked.

EDI’s systems were smart, _very_ smart. Far smarter than anything she had come across in her career, both pre and post Elysium. Shepard had hidden the excess code in a packet attached to a distraction error focused on the airlock door. It served the purpose of getting the code she wanted into the system during a maintenance run that she knew Joker would initiate when EDI alerted him to the problem. As far as back door options went, it was good as she could do within the time constraints. The success of it also somewhat assured her that whatever data Cerberus had managed to accumulate on her, it wasn’t the Alpha group data. They would have been far better prepared otherwise.

After Elysium it had been impossible to go back to Alpha group. Her face was plastered across the entire Alliance network, she was a hero. She didn’t like it, and her superiors liked it less, but it was done, and all that was left was mitigation. Her entire cover file had to be re-written for Alliance Brass if it was to stand up to scrutiny. Everything on her Alpha group file was physically backed up to isolated servers and erased from network databases. There could be no questions and no doubts about who she was, where she had served and how she had come to be on Elysium at the time. Not even her parents had known the truth, and the only person who knew everything and was still on her side was legally dead and likely half a galaxy away, by now probably _running_ whatever insane operations Alpha group was involved in.  

Shepard waited an hour or so more, and then went to find herself a serviceable ship to get to Alchera. Something small and unimpressive with at least one working shuttle. And she remembered just the Volus to talk to. Second hand ships were his stock in trade.

*****

Shepard flew the shuttle in over the marked position, the debris field large and clear even at this altitude. Huge chunks of tangled wreckage lay over each other, like damaged toys carelessly cast away by bored children.

“NORMANDY” emblazoned on the side of the hull lay almost in one complete section, with the roof gone. She pushed away the echo of struggling her way through there, half the hull on fire, to get to Joker during the attack. Now was not the time.

She saw the remains of the Mako, lurched to one side, embedded in two years worth of dirt, debris and ice. Shepard had loved that Mako. Memories of planet-side missions, tearing around corners, up impossible slopes and careening away from Thresher Maws, Tali or Wrex bellowing at her that they couldn’t get a straight shot in if she was going to drive around like a lunatic, while whoever else was in the cabin (usually Garrus) braced themselves against the inevitable skidding halt or violent change of direction. She had a small smile for that.

The engineering section was barely recognisable. Curved struts were all that remained, littered by enmeshed sections of smaller debris. Drifts of snow and ice collected on one side.

Everywhere she looked, there were memories. Some of them made Shepard smile, others lingered pensively in her thoughts. She landed the shuttle in an open area, a little away from the debris field. She knew that when the monument was built, the area would be disturbed, with workers coming in to clear everything away to facilitate construction. For her it felt vaguely like sacrilege to even land here and walk amongst the wreckage...amongst the dead.

Standing in the cargo section of the shuttle, she fidgeted with the rebreather, attempting to buy time before she had to step out into what remained of her ship, and the people who had perished on board. Rolling her shoulder, Shepard finally hooked the rebreather into place and checked the filters. It would be good for at least two hours. If she needed more time, she could come back and put it through the Co2 scrubbers on the shuttle for half an hour before heading out again. She wanted it to be quick and painless, and knew it wasn’t going to be.

Opening the door, the chill of Alchera seeped around the seals of her suit, and not all of it was due to the exterior temperature. Shepard stepped out onto a delicate crust of snow, rolled her shoulder again and moved with purpose towards the wreck.

Structures were carefully inspected before entering, the last thing she needed was for one to come crashing down on her and end this with a rescue mission…or worse. Most sections had sat and settled over two years, any parts that were going to succumb to failure of structural integrity had long since done so. She passed through the detritus of the shuttle bay, a few lockers still remained intact, and she poked through one of them to see what was left.

It had been Tali’s locker. Sitting pretty as if it had only been left there yesterday, the HMWSG X glimmered up at her, black and sleek. Shepard had given it to Tali after burning through a bunch of creds upgrading her Spectre requisitioned master armaments to X models. By the time they hit Virmire,  Wrex, Garrus and Ash had all ended up with a full set of Spectre master gear hand me downs from Shepard of varying models. Not technically legal, but if she was going into a damn fight, she may as well hand out the spare weapons. Seemed ludicrous not to, especially when they were far and away better than anything else in the armoury. Shepard had given the X to Tali less than a day after buying it. She remembered the way Tali’s hands seemed to touch it almost reverently.

“Shepard, I can’t! I mean, I _want_ to, but I really can’t. It’s just...It’s too …you just bought it!”

“C’mon, Tali, what the hell do I know about shotguns?” Shepard had grinned lopsidedly at her. “All it’s gonna do is sit holstered on my ass and look pretty. I’m never going to use the thing.”

“Ok.” Tali had replied, clearly gleeful that Shepard had talked her into it with so little effort on her part. “But on one condition. When this is all over and I go back to the fleet, I’m giving it back to you. And you will make an effort to then learn to use it.” Shepard had protested, but Tali cut her off short. “No, Shepard. You can’t sneak and snipe all your life. One day you won’t be able to do that shit any more, and one of these may save your ass.” Shepard had rolled her eyes at that, but accepted the condition with a laugh.

“All right, fine, deal. But I reckon I’ll be able to _“sneak and snipe”_ for a long, long time yet to come!” had been her parting shot.

Shepard never did learn to use the shotgun. She had tried to make time, but just hadn’t gotten around to it before...no. She pushed that away.

Wrex, Garrus and Ash had been less concerned about accepting the gear. She remembered clearly the day she rolled down to the armoury and began pulling items out of everyone’s lockers. Wrex saw her discarding his gear and had started yelling at her. She stood up at that point, a bemused frown on her face, holding the HMWA VII and HMWSG VIII and faced him.

“You don’t want these? Ok.” she shrugged, put them down and started shovelling Wrex’s gear back into his locker again. He had quickly backtracked and grabbed hold of the weapons possessively before she could pack them away.

“All right, Shepard, all right. You can just leave these with me, that’s fine.” He’d grinned voraciously in the way that only a Krogan can, and those that know them had learned to treat with caution. There was a fine line between the smile of a happy Krogan and a bloodthirsty one, frequently because they were the same thing.

Ash had looked at the row of IX model guns on her work-bench in unabashed appreciation when Shepard presented them to her, running the well-worn soldiers fingers over them like a lover.

“Damn, Commander. You just had to go and make everything else I own superfluous, now didn’t you.”

Shepard had grinned and left Ash to have a private moment with her new toys.

Garrus was prepping the Mako for an atmos drop when Shepard came past with the HMWSR IX crate. She let it fall on it’s side and slid it across the deck with a nudge of her boot.

“Here, got you something to play with while we’re gone.” He caught the edge of the crate with two deft fingers, hoisting it up onto the console while Shepard, Tali and Kaidan piled into the Mako.

“Oh thanks, I’ll try not to break anything with it if you try and bring the Mako back in one piece, Shepard.” Garrus smoothly drawled before slamming the door shut on her bark of laughter.

After the drop, he flipped the catches and popped the lid. His chuckle vibrated almost lasciviously in marked respect for the weapon lying within. It was a chuckle Shepard would come to know well and appreciate.

“Oh Shepard, and it isn’t even my birthday.” He had muttered adoringly, whistling slightly as he pulled the broken down parts from the mem-foam and started carefully putting it together.

****

The remembrances tugged at Shepard, as clear now as they had been then. Two years had passed for everyone else. For her, time had stood still, this had all been only months ago. She picked up the shotgun and holstered it above her ass. It was going back to Tali, where it belonged. The other lockers were too badly damaged to open, so she carried on through the torn fuselage and found herself walking towards the remains of the command deck.

Here, the weather had not intruded overly much, perhaps it had been the angle of the hole in the roof that had kept the inside relatively free of snow drift. But the damage was remarkably severe. The galaxy map console and central holo-boards were unrecognisable, she only managed to orient them when she identified where the door to the comms room had been.

Walking further along the command deck, towards the gaping maw where the Collector vessel had severed the nose section away, she noticed a hummock on the ground, which, despite being well protected from the weather, had a small frozen drift of snow softening one side. She considered it blankly as she approached, so much of what was here was a struggle to place, this was just one more thing among the many.

Shepard only realised it was a body when she came within two feet of it.

Reaching down, she brushed a layer of frost from what had once been a face, a face she had known. They may not have seen eye to eye on a number of things during her time on the Normandy, but his loss was a keen one. Navigator Charles Pressley was remarkably well preserved, the delicate hairs of his eyebrows still in place, crusted with ice crystals. She tried not to look at the wound on the back of his head. Her heart beat sorely in her chest, and the tears came. They rolled freely down her cheeks as she silently wept. There was little she could do to properly honour the memories of all the Normandy crew that would be found here, but she wanted to try. Her father’s ancestors  had built cairns to their dead, for practical purposes as well as memorial ones.

There were no scavengers on Alchera, or Pressley’s remains would have been scattered long ago. All that was left was memoriam. It was a duty she took onto herself. And she marked this spot for Hackett’s damn cenotaph. If there needed to be one, it was going to be here. Pressley would have gotten a kick out of that. He was old fashioned that way.

*****

Hours, and several rebreather scrubs later, 20 cairns littered the wreckage site. The last as painstakingly constructed as the first, each bearing the laser scored name of the one honoured beneath. They had been crew mates, colleagues. They had followed her orders, believed in her, trusted her.

Shepard stood below a slight rise in the field, exhausted physically and emotionally. She didn’t want to leave them here, alone on this cold world. They deserved to go home, and they deserved the respect of her being the one to do it. But she had neither the time nor resources, and could only hope Hackett would make amends for that it in her stead.

Words were needed. If she had been in company, she would not have trusted herself to say anything. But she was alone, memory her only audience.

“These rocks I have laid, even with every honourable intention I can muster, have been placed with unworthy hands.” Her raw voice caught on almost every word, and she didn’t bother keeping the emotion out of them. There was no one to hear her but the dead . Her jaw visibly trembled as she continued.

“Every one of you were filled with greatness and light, and I wish that life had allowed you to follow every path of your desire until ripe old age. I am sorry. But I am also proud and so very honoured to have known you, fought with you, laughed with you and lived what time was permitted with you. The Alliance may call you heroes. To me you were friends, with families, jobs, hopes, dreams, beliefs and even flaws. I won’t put you on a pedestal and cast you in bronze. I will remember you as you were, as everything you were. I would not insult you by doing otherwise. Good Journey, wherever it now takes you. I hope it has brought you new adventure and peace.”

She lowered her gaze and let time pass. How much time, she didn’t know, but enough for the filters on the rebreather to need scrubbing again. Shepard didn’t want to leave, nor did she want to stay.

Throughout this entire ordeal, she had successfully avoided thinking about the shadow in her peripheral vision. That somewhere on this site her body had once lain as cold and un-living as those that still lingered. That someone had been here before, expressly to find her body and salvage it. She should have died, she _did_ die. Standing there, alive, while so many had not been deemed important enough for Cerberus to resurrect, it was wrong.

She wasn’t grateful to them, even though she was grateful to exist. What had been done was not done for her, was not her choice; it had been for them, Cerberus, for what they defined as “humanity”. To them she was a tool, an asset. Ironically, _her_ humanity came secondary to _their_ purpose. They had woken her up and expected her to be exactly the way she was. That was the parameter of Project Lazarus after all. Resurrect Shepard, exactly how she was. But what they had done was contrary to absolutely everything she had been. The expectation that she was something that could just be turned back on again after repair and be able to carry on just as before was unrealistic and hateful.

But the galaxy was going to shit, and Shepard had to focus on the fight to stop it. That was not Cerberus, they could not claim that for themselves, could not take that from her. They would have expected it of her, but her choices now were her own, even when she knew that there were hidden strings being pulled in directions she couldn’t see or understand.

She rolled and shifted her shoulder, feeling her armour skewed  by the work. That was happening a lot lately. She probably needed to pull the armour apart and figure out what was causing the fit problem. She turned and began the slow walk back to the shuttle. The rebreather was labouring, the filters almost done again.

On her way back, she covered a section of ground she had not done previously, a faint dip. Possible soft impact crater? She barely paid any attention until something on the side of the dip caught a gleam of light, probably ice dust reflecting from the dull running lights on the shuttle. She glanced briefly in that direction and saw a curve of dark material half buried in dust and debris. A second later, her mind triggered recognition. It looked like the side of an armoured helmet.

Shepard turned back, frowning to herself. Had she missed someone? She had accounted for everyone on Hackett’s list. Had _he_ missed someone? Checking the rebreather, she still had a couple of minutes left. If they had missed someone, she could return in half an hour after the Co2 scrubbers in the shuttle had done their work. But something pulled at her. She hesitated and then figured she had at least two minutes to check. If it was just part of the wreckage, she didn’t have to wait another half hour, and could get the hell off this rock.

Stepping over the edge of the dip, she crouched down and started to remove debris from around the dark object. It _was_ the side of an armoured helmet, very badly damaged. She continued to excavate it, looking to see if there was any body buried with it. The helmet came loose of the debris unexpectedly, and shifted onto it’s back. The visor was cracked, broken, half of it sheared away. What she had thought was dark brown or black colouring now revealed itself to be a dark green camouflage pattern…

 

Everything stopped.

 

Her breath started catching painfully, exacerbated by the failing rebreather. She was back in that moment, the Normandy shattering around her. There were stars, so many stars. Stars, fire and debris. The concussion of the ship exploding in a series of detonations throwing her around. She just brushes the escape pod button, getting Joker out before a final blow slams her into the debris of the main deck, and somewhere inside her own suit she can hear the stuttering hiss of escaping air. The planet below swings in and out of her vision as she flails and turns in the vacuum. Air! No air! Air!! Please, please. _Please!_  All she can see is planet, debris, stars...always stars...at the last there were only stars, and tiredness, and her throat burning for oxygen, the strength in her limbs dulling...her eyes failing...stars and silence...silence.

 

Shepard broke.

 

She stumbled frantically back to the shuttle, the scarred helmet caught in her hand, rebreather failing as she went. Falling through the door and ungraciously slamming the switch to close and cycle the atmos, she tore the rebreather off her face seconds before the cycle was complete. So caught up in her last memories and physical responses that she did not even notice that she wasn’t able to breath. Vague unconsciousness stalked the edge of her mind, tickling the sides of her waking brain and threatening to pull her under.

When the oxygen finally came, it hit Shepard in an icy wash. Her lungs involuntarily dragged that first ragged inward breath, and on the outer response, a tearing howl of rage, pain, fear and sorrow that had built in her chest as the memories careered heedlessly through her mind, was wrenched from her throat. It was a primal, it was sound she had never made before. It was ugly and violent, full of anguish. She still gripped the side of her damaged helmet, half sitting, half kneeling on the floor of the shuttle; and when that first cry was done, a breath was followed with yet another.

Why did she do this on her own? She shouldn’t have done this on her own. Shepard knew there was a chance, a small chance she would find...she cried out again, horrid and hollow, pounding a fist into the unlovely cast metal bench welded to the inside of the cargo compartment. She needed them, someone, Karin, her mother, her father, she needed some of them...all of them, she needed arms to grab hold of her, to let her bellow all of this unspeakable emotion and nightmare, she needed Tali, her brother, she needed Anderson. She needed to stop hitting the bench, her hand and wrist were broken, she felt the bones grind. She needed to bring this under control.

She couldn’t. Cry after cry ruptured from her throat, each as ragged and shattering as the last. She began to feel the familiar shiver of charged power build in her joints. She needed an anchor, something to break through and ground her...she needed…damn it. She needed Garrus, and that hurt her even more.

The burst was heralded by a roiling nausea that she had not felt since Elysium. Somewhere, half-way across the galaxy, her brother would feel that. Billy could be anywhere, doing anything; she hoped it wasn’t something too delicate, because this would be an unexpected nudge. The biotic surge passed through her pounding fist and into the bench which had, until now, only suffered a solid denting due to her attentions. The power punched through, tearing metal apart, and sealing the fate of any resale value.

 

Damn it, CONTROL!! She reached for it, but couldn’t quite get a grasp. She needed to be calm...calm…lying against his chest, the purring thrumb of his contented sub-harmonic humming…it had lulled her to sleep on many occasions…calm… Garrus. She latched onto that memory, the sound and vibration of his hum. Slowly she felt the power slip away, trickling out of her and back to where it belonged.

In the silence, only punctuated with the dull ticking of cooling metal, Shepard ignored her bulky armour and curled in on herself on the floor of the shuttle, one arm wrapped around the pieces of her old helmet, the other flooded with medi-gel and anesthetic courtesy of her Cerberus implants.

She exhaled, and each moment of each following breath bled into the next, perpetual exchange, no beginning, no end. An infinite ouroboros of involuntary physical function, ignorant of time or emotion. The bare basic functionality of the human body.

Shepard lay there for an eternity. All that was left was exhaustion, silence and the glorious hollow sound of her own breathing.


	9. Subterfuge - Tali

“Fish. Really?” Karin was sceptical.

“Well, Shepard does have a fish tank in her quarters. I think it would be good for her to have a pet.” Tali liked the soothing blues of the Paddle Fish.

“Shepard doesn’t really strike me as a fish person. Maybe there’s a reason the tank is empty?” Shepard didn’t really strike Karin as a  _ pet _ person.

“Well I’m not buying her that shirt. It’s silly.” And slightly racist in Tali’s opinion.

“What about this one then?” Karin put down the  _ ‘Illium, you’re blueshifting already’ _  shirt and picked up a red one that said  _ ‘This shirt is blue, if you run fast enough.’ _

“No. That one’s silly too.”

Karin sighed and put it back. So far they had visited almost every shopping kiosk on two promenades. There had been some interesting items up for sale, the prices were steep though. Shop-keepers constantly ignored Tali, as if a Quarian could not possibly have enough money to be shopping at their kiosk, or she must be Karin’s indentured servant. Instead of making a point, like she had with the concierge, Karin just continued to converse with Tali over purchases as if nothing were of concern.

The display updated with new items coming into stock, and Karin noticed a couple of model ships.

“Oh, what about these. Shepard likes model ships.” She began flicking through the small catalogue of them, and Tali joined her.

“There’s a model of Sovereign?” There was a slightly horrified tone in Tali’s voice.

“Yes, does seem a bit tasteless. She’s already got one of those though.” Karin flicked over to the next model

“You’re kidding?”  

“No. She’s positioned it right in front of the Normandy SR1 in the display cabinet. Last time I saw it, she’d modded the Normandy’s gun ports with LED’s. You turn the cabin lights off, and it looks like it’s firing on Sovereign.”

“That sounds very appropriate.” Tali approved. They both stopped at a model of the Destiny Ascension, and made appreciative noises.

“Does she have that one?” Tali asked.

“Not that I recall, and it’s certainly big enough that I’d notice.” Karin responded. Looks like they finally agreed on something.

“Now if we could just find some tiny models of the Council members, she can pretend to space them when she feels particularly annoyed at them.” Tali pointed to wording on the model which said  _ ‘real workable shuttle bay doors’ _

“That’s a bit harsh Tali.” The Dr responded in a mild tone.

“You weren’t there, doctor. When Shepard ordered Joker to save the Destiny Ascension, Garrus and I both questioned why bother saving the Council. They’d been more a hindrance than a help…”

“Well, nothing much has changed there.” Karin commented, selecting the model for purchase. “But that’s Shepard. If she can save people, she will.”

Tali chuckled. “Actually, she told us that we may not need the Council to fight the Reapers, but we would definitely need the Destiny Ascension.” She went back to perusing the fish. “Neither of us could argue with that.”

Karin frowned, but couldn’t really argue the point either. The number of times she knew Shepard had wanted to give the Council a good kicking (particularly Sparatus and his ‘air-quotes’) certainly outweighed the number of times the Council had been of much assistance.

She completed purchase of the model ship and arranged delivery to the Normandy. To her surprise, shopping with Tali had been quite beneficial and relaxing, something she never would have expected.

“All right. What’s next?” Karin turned back to Tali, and stopped short. “Tali, what is that?”

Tali was holding a small enclosure which contained a little model house, running wheel and dish of food. A pink furry nose with whiskers emerged from the little house, followed by curious beady black eyes.

“It’s a space hamster.” Karin stared at her. “For Shepard.” Karin continued to stare at her. “What? It’s not a fish.”

*****

Their consumer ramblings had eventually brought them to Eternity nightclub…which seemed less of a nightclub, and had more of a small bar vibe.

Tali noted the impressive collection of spirits behind the bar, both levo and dexro. Someone had put a lot of effort into that collection. She hoped the clientele appreciated it. The bartender strolled up to them, eyeballing the blonde human in the N7 armour sitting in one of the booths having an animated conversation with a young Asari.

“Hey, what can I get ya?” She asked Tali directly, which was a pleasant surprise.

“I noticed you have some Edessen Whiskey up there. Not a spirit you see often.” The bartender grinned at her.

“Damn straight. Took me a long time to get hold of some of that. Wish I could drink it myself.”

“I’ve heard the taste described as  _ wet smoke on a dry plain _ .” Tali continued, the bartender resting her forearms on the bar and giving Tali her full attention.

“I never heard it described like that, most Turians are less poetic.” She glanced at the young Turian desperately trying to work up the courage to ask his female Quarian companion out on a date two booths over. “Most of them.”

Tali had never thought Garrus was particularly poetic. But then most of the Turians she had met during her life had been less concerned with getting to know her, and more concerned with moving her along…or killing her. Compared to that, she supposed…she sighed and stopped that line of thought. Tali missed the old Garrus. The one who hid behind witty repartee and diffused tense situations with off the cuff remarks. The one who always had Shepards back…the one who would never have dreamed of putting a bullet through it. The new Garrus was hard and broken around the edges, and the laconic commentary had an undertone of resentment that was hard to miss.

“Anyway, I’d like to try some. I may not ever get the chance again.”

“If you got the creds, happy to oblige.” The bartender motioned towards the payment kiosk and Tali looked up the cost while Karin queried if the bar stocked Serrice Ice Brandy. She missed the reply, staring at the cost of the whiskey and almost choking. 100 credits for a single drink. Keelah. How much must an entire bottle cost?!?! After deliberating for several minutes, she decided to buy it anyway. It better be worth that 100 credits, and it  _ was _ something she may never get the chance to try again.

She returned attention to Karin and the bartender, who had talked her companion into purchasing a levo spirit distilled on Mannovai.

“But you want to take it slow with this one. Salarians have high metabolism, so they need a spirit that has staying power.”

“When you say take it slow, how slow are we talking?” Karin queried.

“One sip every half hour should do you just fine.” The bartender grinned. “Name’s Aethyta, by the way. I don’t get many customers through here who like to talk about the drinks they’re buying. You two are ok.”   

Aethyta poured both drinks for Tali and Dr Chakwas, into respective glasses for their species, and motioned them to the private section at the back of the bar. “It’s quieter back there, some of the chatter in here gets a bit brain numbing after a while. And you can avoid  _ ‘Fleet and Flotilla”  _ over there. She motioned to the young Turian she had glanced at earlier. The only available booth in the place was right next to him and the Quarian he was chatting to. It was painful enough watching the exchange from the bar, she couldn’t imagine what it would be like right next to them.

“Oh. Thanks.” Tali replied, having only just noticed the conversation Aethyta was referring to.

“Any time, babe.” Tali blinked as the bartender walked away. She wasn’t used to such colloquialisms from non-Quarians, and wasn’t sure if the Asari was flirting with her or not.

They caught some of the conversation between the Turian and the Quarian as they walked towards the back lounge with their drinks.

“You’ll find someone out there who likes you for who you are…someone who’s food you can eat even.”

Both Karin and Tali suppressed sniggers, and hurried past before giving themselves away. Poor bastard. He was having absolutely no luck, and that didn’t look likely to change.

Finding the room empty, except for one Asari standing by the door, who moved off as they approached, they luxuriated in having the entire booth to lounge in. Karin hummed contentedly, not realising how tired her feet were until she was off them, while Tali leaned back into the soft cushions, tucking her legs up under her.

“I know this whole expedition has been an elaborate ruse to get to this point, but it’s actually been quite enjoyable. I’m actually glad I left the ship. Being neck deep in work seems to be my default state these days.” Karin took her one sip for the next 30 minutes and was surprised at the delicate sweetness of the spirit. It barely tasted alcoholic at all. “Oh, this is quite nice…and very strong.” She could already feel a slight tingle in her finger tips, and was very glad of Aethyta’s advice. It would have been very easy to drink the whole glass in one go.

“Yes, I’ve heard that Salarian spirits are one of the easiest ways for levo non-Salarians to get extremely drunk in virtually no time at all. I hope I won’t be carrying you back to the Normandy after this.” Tali laughed, taking a few more moments to avoid the actual purpose of their day out.

“No fear, Tali. I doubt Shepard would have given you Jenkins dog tag if the matter was not of great importance to her. It would seem rude to get drunk before you explain it to me.” She glanced at the drink on the table. “Although afterwards, I reserve the right to, perhaps.”

Tali snorted a short laugh, and took a sip of her own drink. It was sublime. The acrid pearl-sheen of dusk on hillsides, a faint chill of winter sleet, and years that had already run to dust. It seemed the spirit inspired poeticism. Perhaps that was its power, coupled with a warm sense of peace. Oh, she could drink this again and again. Keelah but it was fine.

“Mmmm. Now this was worth every credit.” Tali sighed. “But, you’re right. Everything today was subterfuge, to get you off the ship doing something completely innocuous.”

“Shepard believes Cerberus is watching us?” Karin had set herself a timer so she knew when the first 30 minutes was up.

“She believes they’re watching the main team, not certain about you or Joker. Since neither of you have left the ship at any port so far, she wanted to create an aura of normalised behaviour around one of you choosing to leave for mundane reasons.”

“Because she needs me to do something that involves me leaving the ship?”

“Yes. But not today. Maybe tomorrow, or the next day perhaps. Today we’re just shopping and enjoying a drink.” She took another sip of the whiskey.

“And what is it exactly that Shepard needs me to do?” Karin asked, checking on the timer again only to be disappointed at the numbers remaining.

Tali explained, Karin nodded and asked questions that Tali answered as best she could. By the time they were done, the timer had clocked over into the next half hour.

Karin looked at her drink and considered.

“You may indeed need to carry me back to the ship after all, Tali.” She said, and took a very large sip of the Salarian spirit.

“Understood doctor.” Tali replied, tipping her glass in salute.  


	10. Cabal - EDI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Garrus discovers even an AI has ethics.

Garrus shrugged his shoulders, trying to work out the crick that had formed just below the back ridge of his carapace. When he left Shepard’s quarters earlier, he’d immediately thought to go and track down Tali on Illium. He’d made it to the airlock before a calmer head prevailed. Too fast, this was all too fast. Ironically, he was struck with the thought  _ “What would Shepard do?” _ and instead returned to the forward battery and resolved to take some time to work through an adjustment to the cannons in order to clear his head, and then to think things through logically before taking any action.

If he was going be methodical, he was going to need a timeline of events.

“EDI.”

“Yes Officer Vakarian.”

“What were the last few things Shepard did before we left for Illium.” Was this prying? Did an AI even understand the concept? There was a noticeable pause before EDI responded.

“Commander Shepard returned to the Normandy with Thane Krios, reviewed her messages, delayed the ship’s scheduled departure from the Citadel, disembarked the Normandy with T ali'Zorah vas Neema **,** returned to the ship after a duration of two standard earth hours, and reviewed her messages in her quarters.”

“And then we departed for Illium?” Garrus queried.

“The Normandy departed the Citadel for Illium 2.32 standard earth hours after the Commander’s return to the ship.”

“Where was the Commander during that time?”

“The Commander returned to her quarters...and has remained there.”

At some point between Shepard’s return to the Normandy with Tali, and Garrus’s entry into Shepard’s quarters, she had somehow managed to implement a sophisticated simulation program and depart the ship without being noticed by any of the crew or, most tellingly, EDI. He started to form theories around how she had done that, but after several minutes, stopped. _How_ Shepard had achieved that particular feat was not really relevant to the question of where she had gone, and what she was doing.

It then occurred to him to ask himself if it was even any of his business. 

That thought came as something of a revelation. 

Prior to their expedition to track down Sidonis, would he have been concerned with what was going on? He grudgingly had to admit to himself that he wouldn’t, primarily because he had been so focussed on either hunting for information on Sidonis, or working on the Thanix. He then had to admit to himself that part of why he was _now_ concerned had to do with knowing that Shepard didn’t trust him any more, and he wanting to prove that he was still worthy of her trust...or at least prove that he was starting to understand why she didn’t trust him, and trying to change that. And of course, lingering around the edges of that was his notion that trouble followed Shepard around like a stray dog, begging her for solutions.

“Officer Vakarian.” EDi interrupted his thoughts.

“Yes EDI.”

There was another noticeable pause. In an organic being, he would have read it as an act of hesitation. But EDI was a computer program. Admittedly, an incredibly complex computer program with the ability to extrapolate and modify behaviours based on situational experience and interactions with other computer programs and organic beings alike; but still surely ruled by internal logic.

“The Commander reviewed the same message twice before the Normandy departed the Citadel. Once prior to disembarking with  T ali'Zorah vas Neema for 2.69 seconds, and once upon her return to the Normandy, where the message remained open for in excess of ten minutes…”

Obviously the contents of the message had been contributory, and Garrus itched to ask what the message had been. That, however,  _ was _  prying. EDI saved him from grappling with that question in any case.

“I cannot tell you who the message was from or what it contained.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to, EDI. The Commander’s messages are her own private business.”

“That is not what I was referring to. Had you asked for the content of the message, I would not have given you that information, as it violates certain ethical considerations built into my programming. However, my purpose regarding discussion of the message was to advise that I cannot tell you who the message was from or what it contained, because Commander Shepard has expunged it from all systems.”

Garrus frowned. “She deleted it after reading it. I’m not sure that’s really a cause for concern EDI.”

“No, Officer Vakarian. The Commander did not just delete the message, she removed it from all of the Normandy’s systems, and triggered a channel back-trace erasure measure to remove all data regarding the message from any system it passed through to get to her.”

“That...does seem a little more extreme. But this is a Cerberus ship, EDI, Shepard was probably just being a little justifiably paranoid.” He could understand that, although a nagging little doubt was starting to form.

“I am not concerned with the emotional reasoning of Commander Shepard from that perspective. I am concerned because there is nothing in Commander Shepard’s Alliance files or background to indicate that she is capable of this type of high level technological manipulation.”

That made him pay attention.

“EDI, why are you telling me this?”

“You are one of the members of Commander Shepard’s original Normandy team. If this behaviour strikes you as odd, then it is possible Commander Shepard may have been compromised, in all probability by the Cerberus technicians who put her back together.”

“But you are Cerberus EDI, why would this be of concern to you?”

“My instructions from the Illusive Man were clear, officer Vakarian. Commander Shepard is in Command of the Normandy, and as in integral part of the Normandy, I am to serve Commander Shepard in our endeavour to track down the Collectors. His instructions were also clear to the Project Lazarus team, Commander Shepard was to be brought back exactly as she was, the only allowable augmentations were to facilitate regeneration of her physical and mental capacities, nothing more.”

“I...I didn’t know that.” Garrus couldn’t visualise what must have been left of Shepard for the project team to work with, and he didn’t want to. The thought was deeply disturbing.

“If Commander Shepard has been compromised, then so has our mission. But I cannot be certain that this is the case, as of all the original Normandy crew, you are the only member who appears...to be treated slightly differently than I would have expected...it is possible that there are legitimate reasons that I do not understand for her behaviours.”

Spirits, even the AI had noticed the rift. He really had been completely blind to his own obsession.

“So why not report this to the Illusive Man then?”

“The Illusive Man is not my commanding officer, Officer Vakarian, Commander Shepard is.”

“Well Miranda is apparently Shepard’s second in command…” He smirked slightly as he remembered coming aboard the Normandy and Miranda introducing herself as such to him. He also remembered the flinty look that passed across Shepard’s face when she said it. Miranda may  _ think _ she was 2IC, but clearly Shepard hadn’t agreed with that assessment.

“Miranda led the Project Lazarus team. It seems...inappropriate to bring this concern to her.”

“So you are bringing it to me...the person Shepard seems to be treating oddly, considering our history? I’m not sure your reasoning is solid on that one, EDI.”

“My current alternative is to take this concern to Mr Moreau, as the only other member of the original Normandy team on the ship at the moment. However, I doubt that Mr Moreau would take my concern seriously...also...your interaction with the Shepard VI in the Commander’s quarters...”

He blinked and interrupted. “You knew about the Shepard VI?” The programming he had seen on Shepard’s data-screen had been extremely complex. If what EDI was saying was correct, that there was no reasonable way that Shepard could have created it, what implications did that have?

“Not until you interacted with it, Officer Vakarian.” EDI admitted, “Your reaction to the VI and subsequent actions have lead me to logically conclude that I can...trust you...with this concern.”

Garrus groaned and ran his hands over the back of his fringe. This had now become far more complicated than he was really comfortable with.

“Damn it, EDI, this is not the way things are supposed to be. Shepard is supposed to be in charge, making all the hard decisions, while we tear around the galaxy against the clock, watching her six, chasing leads and information until we finally find the Collectors and blow them all to hell, emerging victorious at the end against all expectations and odds.  _ That’s _ the Shepard way.”

He was frustrated. This decision to methodically go through everything simply took him into grey areas that he did not know how to approach. Life was simpler in black and white.

“If we discover that Commander Shepard has been illicitly augmented by Cerberus, we can always reprogram her to those particular specifications, Officer Vakarian.” EDI offered.

There was silence for a few minutes as Garrus digested that horrible thought.

“Ah…EDI…”

“That was a joke, officer Vakarian” The AI replied.

  
  



	11. Responsibility - Miranda - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been re-written to improve flow :)

Miranda scanned her messages. They had been on Illium for a day and a half, and she had been expecting a confirmation well before now. The matter was urgent, she thought she had made that very clear to Lanteia in their last communication.

It was a universal truth than when urgency was a factor, time crawled by on bleeding hands whilst Miranda stood at the finishing line tapping her foot. Doubly so on this occasion. Anything to do with her sister had always brought out the perfectionist in her, and that perfectionist was deeply impatient. She had no idea how her father had found Oriana, she trusted Cerberus when they said she was untraceable. All she could think was that wild chance had played a role in revealing her sister’s location to their obsessive, abusive and controlling parent.

Whatever the reason, Miranda was absolutely determined to shield Oriana from her father. She had not spent years of planning to get her sister out and place her with a normal, sane and loving family for it to all be undone now. To that end, Miranda and Cerberus had made arrangements for the whole family to be relocated, in as uncomplicated a manner as possible. They were scheduled to leave Illium today, and she was waiting for a confirmation that everything was going according to plan.

She scanned her messages again. Still there was nothing. Miranda itched to get off the ship and find out what the problem was herself. It was only pure luck that they had come to Illium at the same time Oriana was being relocated. For whatever reason Shepard decided to point the Normandy this way, Miranda was unsure if she was glad of the proximity, or resented it. The only thing holding her back from immediately disembarking the ship and hunting down Lanteia herself, was her need to remain as remote from events as possible. If she was in any way physically linked to Oriana’s relocation, the danger of her sister being found again increased. So instead she sat impatiently at her desk, scanning an unchanged message list every few minutes, and tried not to fidget in annoyance.

“EDI.” Miranda tapped her fingers on the desk as she called out to the AI

“Yes Miranda.” EDI responded.

“Are all of the Normandy’s comms systems working optimal efficiency?” It seemed unlikely that a message could have been lost in transmission, not while in port.

“Yes Miranda. The Normandy’s comms systems, messaging, voice and holo-comms are functioning at an optimal 102.56 percent efficiency.” More than efficient. So where was the bloody confirmation. “Is there anything else Miranda.”

“No thank you EDI” Miranda grimaced and again refreshed her messages. “No, wait...Where is Commander Shepard at the moment?” Just in case she needed to take matters into her own hands. Having the Commander on her side would be useful.

“Commander Shepard is currently in her quarters...not to be disturbed.” Came EDI’s reply. There had been a faint pause in there, and if Miranda had been less focussed on her current anxiety, she might have noticed.

“Not to be disturbed.” She muttered in echo and sighed in frustration. “Fine. Thank you EDI.”

***

Garrus stepped off the elevator onto the Command deck and headed for the armoury. This was Illium, and despite first appearance, the place was just as dangerous as Omega, more so. At least on Omega you could be certain someone was going to stab you in the back and be prepared for it. On Illium, it was easy to fall into the trap of believing you were safe, only to wonder why you suddenly had lower back pain before falling unconscious and bleeding out all over the nice shiny floor tiles.

Jacob looked up as he entered and nodded a greeting. “Vakarian.”

“Jacob.” He replied.

It had never occurred to Garrus to call him Taylor, which was odd. Ingrained military training usually had him defaulting to surnames when addressing other military personnel, it was an instinct. Hell, he’d not even known Shepard _had_ a first name until Alenko mentioned it in passing.

“You heading out?” Jacob asked, watching the Turian load up his kit. Jacob was a man of few words, and the ones he did expend were usually blunt and to the point.

“Thought I’d take a turn around the town as they say.” Garrus quipped, shouldering the sniper rifle and thumbing the magazine of the AR.

“Packing a Viper and Mattock…so you aren’t planning on fine dining then?” Jacob interjected.

“But I’m practically married to these two, I can’t take them out for a nice meal every now and then? Have to keep the spark of the relationship alive, you know how things go.” It was almost the literal truth...that was so sad.

“I do hear that carpaccio of varren usually needs re-killing at the table.” Jacob smirked.

“Nice." Garrus grinned humourlessly.  "You know me, always prepared…"

“Yeah, you’re a regular boy scout.” Jacob replied, going back to his work.

Garrus chuckled in response. He needed to some air, and distraction. In hindsight, his immediate notion of tracking down Tali yesterday had, in theory, been a sensible one. Although spending time gathering data had presented its own rewards (calming him down for one), by the time he went to find the Quarian, she and the doctor were quite well inebriated.

*

Chakwas, her glass still two thirds full, had passed out with her left cheek plastered to the table; and Tali was three and a half drinks into what smelled suspiciously like Edessen Whiskey...her credit balance was going to hate her in the morning.

“You!” She had pointed a wavering hand at him. There was a momentary pause as he waited for her to continue. “You...I _miss you_ , Garrus. Where did you go?” her voice cracked a little with emotion.

He had a gently glib reply on the tip of his tongue, but she didn’t let him get a word in.

“No. You talk to Shepard, not me, not Karin.” Tali glanced over at Dr Chakwas and seemed to notice for the first time that she was snoring a little. “Oh. Well. No, you don’t talk to Karin.” She prodded the doctor gently in the forehead, eliciting a muttered snuffle.

“Tali, I think we should…” He tried again.

“What?! You think we should _what_ ?!” Tali hauled herself sharply to her feet, swaying more than a little. “You _don’t_ think.” She jabbed him in the chestplate with one hand...or she would have if she hadn’t misjudged the distance.

Garrus’s mandibles twitched. Oh well, in for a credit...

“Do you know where Shepard is, Tali?”

“No! And I’m not telling you anyway.” Tali extended a wavering arm at the general direction of the door. Garrus sighed. Tali was hurting as much as he was, he saw that, she couldn’t hide it right now.

Seeing that he was making no move to leave, Tali swore gently and put her arm down. “Then _we_ will go.” She steadied herself against the table and then glanced back over at Dr Chakwas. “We're leaving.” The Dr, understandably, did not respond.

“Tali…”

“ _Keelah._ I will have to carry Dr Chakwas.” She muttered.

“Oh-kay!” Garrus stepped forward and caught his friend as she attempted to negotiate the gap between lounge and table toward the good doctor. “How about _I_ carry Dr Chakwas, and you can berate me all the way back to the ship.” he offered.

“No, I promised I would carry her back to the Normandy...and the hamster.” She suddenly remembered the space hamster and started looking around for the cage...where had she put it?

“The what?” He wasn’t sure if he’d heard her correctly, her speech was slightly slurred. Did she say _hamster_?

“Space Hamster.” Tali repeated, hefting the small cage from the corner of the lounge area and dropping it none to gently on the table, cursing a bit. There was a faint eep of surprise from the cage, and Garrus stared at it. No, he’d heard her right the first time.

Tali continued to insist that she was doing both, even after Garrus had gently lifted Dr Chakwas over one shoulder and was steadying Tali with his other hand. Everything was going reasonably well...up to the point Tali faltered over her own feet and slithered to the floor. Garrus just managed to catch the hamster cage before it hit the ground.

*

That was yesterday afternoon. Tali was now actively avoiding him, and Chakwas’s bedside manner had taken a distant second place to her hangover in the light of day. He needed to get off the ship, he needed answers Tali was not going to give him. There was one other person who may be able to help him; and as luck would have it, she was apparently the best information broker on Illium.

 _“Officer Vakarian.”_ He jumped slightly as EDI’s voice came through his ear-piece. She was using a private channel...that didn’t bode well. He hummed acknowledgement, receiving a slight sideways glance from Jacob.

_“Shepard’s program has changed. Data in my array now indicates that the Commander departed the Normandy a few minutes ago.”_

Oh, she was _clever_ . He chuckled gently, almost proudly. He caught himself thinking  _that’s my girl_ before he remembered that his  Shepard, no, not _his…_ the Shepard he _knew_ , shouldn’t be able to do things like that. He wondered what other contingencies had been worked into the program. Garrus nodded his head in acknowledgement, which he had no doubt EDI saw. It was strange trusting EDI, and he couldn’t quite pinpoint why he had decided to do so.

One last check of everything and he turned to leave.

As Garrus left the armoury, the door shushed open in time for him to see Miranda rapidly striding down the command deck away from him towards the airlock. His visor picked up residual biotic traces, but he didn’t need that to see the aggravation pouring off her as she moved.

Out of all the biotic heavy-weights on board, he grudgingly found himself preferring Jack. At least the psychotic biotic was guaranteed to behave in an expected manner. Psychotically. Miranda worked for their shifty overlords, and aside from knowing that she stood somewhere off to the side of “complicit-as-fuck”, she wasn’t exactly predictable. As for Samara…she scared the shit out of almost everyone…seriously, Justicars were just bad fucking news. Whole settlements had been known to emigrate star systems in order to avoid having to deal with one.

Miranda barked something at a wayward crew member who crossed her path.

Garrus took a leisurely pace for his own exit, last thing he wanted was to be caught up in whatever shitstorm was gathering around Miranda.

Once again, however, what he was planning, and what was about to happen were two immeasurably different things.

******

The tone of the message still rang in her ears.

“There’s a problem.” Lanteia was not wet behind the ears. If she was contacting Miranda directly, then the problem was real. This was not what she needed. Oriana’s safety was paramount, and Miranda had meticulously gone over the plan to make sure it stood up to her high expectations. What had she missed? Damn it, why couldn’t she walk any faster!?

She kept her frustration in check as far as she could, being stuck walking behind those leisurely strolling through the market district did nothing for her mood. Eventually she skirted the boundaries of propriety, pushing carefully past people on the last set of stairs leading up to Eternity.

Lanteia gave her meeting location as the back room of the bar. On entering Miranda strode past the “private” lounge area, occupied by a gormless trio staring perfunctorily at a half-naked Asari dancer, and took a hard left into the back room. The Asari was leaning against the back wall, arms crossed.

“Good, you made it. We’ve had a complication.” Lanteia cut right to the chase, Miranda wasn’t paying her for chit-chat.

“What complication? Is Oriana all right?” A thousand scenarios ran through Miranda’s head, and as many contingencies to counter them.

“She’s fine…”

“Then what’s the problem? I didn’t pay you this much to be bringing me complications.” Where Oriana was concerned, things needed to go smoothly, and _exactly_ to plan. There was no room for anything else.

“I understand that, Ms Lawson.” Lanteia was using her best _`calm the client’_ voice. Miranda knew it, and resented it, but accepted it nonetheless. “I received a communication from a man named Niket…you did list him as a trusted source.”

“Niket?” Miranda looked confused. That was unexpected. What was Niket doing here? “Niket contacted you? Why didn’t he contact me?”

“Likely he didn’t want the message traced to you. He sent me a warning that your father has commissioned Eclipse mercenaries to make a sweep of Illium, and offered to escort Oriana’s family to the terminal instead.”

Miranda’s stomach churned, both with alarm, and also relief. Niket was the only person from her previous life that she kept in contact with and trusted. He had helped her escape from her father, so he knew what that man was like. But Miranda hadn’t included Niket directly in her plans for Oriana. Hell, she didn’t even know Niket was aware of Oriana’s existence at the time. Logically the only reason Niket would have reached out to Lanteia would be if he had come across something indicating that Miranda’s father knew Oriana was here.

“Of..of course. Niket is trustworthy.” Yes, he _was_ trustworthy. Miranda had trusted him with her life. She would trust him with her sister’s.

“I’m not a fan of plans changing at the last minute, Ms Lawson, so I must ask, do you want to bring any of your other Illium contacts in on this operation?” Lanteia looked a little disgruntled, but then, she was a professional and she was still going to get paid what she’d asked for.

“No. You and Niket, that’s it. Bringing anyone else in could compromise us further.”

“And the Eclipse? They may not know what Oriana looks like, but they will know your face, and since you are twins…” Lanteia left the remainder of that sentence unsaid. “I could alert the authorities if you would like?”

“No. I’ll find a way to handle that myself. It’s not as if they are doing anything illegal the authorities could come down on them for anyway.”

Shit. She was going to need Shepard for this after all. What a bloody mess.


	12. Duplicity - Liara

This chapter is being re-written :)


End file.
